The Sweet Hereafter
by Lord Malachite
Summary: [Complete] A journey of selfdiscovery for Helga as she discovers who she is, with a little help from a certain Football Headed young boy. Updated May 24
1. The Sweet Hereafter

Author's Note—Before you delve into the actual story just below, I urge you to take a moment to read this so you'll know where I'm coming from and why the story you've just clicked on even exists. I'm going to start out by being frank and honest. I am probably the most unqualified person in the world to write HA fanfiction. I've been with the series for, oh, about 24 hours now. I've watched only one episode and the movie. In fact, originally I planned to draft this meager idea into a nice one-shot story over time. However, I've decided to throw caution to the wind and write the whole thing now. Why? Because I largely consider this an experiment. The series is very intriguing and well done, full of that spark of life that makes the characters real. Writing this now allows me to take a night or two off from my popular Weekenders series, "Awakening."

Okay, by now you're thinking that here I am, unloading a story on an unsuspecting fandom because I need a break from writing something else. Yeah, this thing should be just great. Well, I'm hoping it will be. While I'm quite certain I'll make some flaws and errors in character presentation, I'm hoping to sell this story as is on my name alone. Some of you are probably here for different reasons. Some of you are reading this because I told you "Hey, I wrote something new, go check it out." A few of you may be here because you just enjoy reading anything I post here at FFN. But I'm guessing the vast majority of you are here because you were just perusing through the site and said to yourself "Oh, there's another new HA story. I wonder if it's any good?" Well, you're about to tell me. This story has been uploaded to FFN without pre-reading of any kind. It is solely my experiment. Now granted, even if I make mistakes here, I'm confident that the writing itself is good enough to entertain you. I don't pretend to be a best-selling author, but I've been in the fanfiction game long enough to know when I've written something bad, and I can assure you that I always prevent such sub-par material from making its way to your eyes.

Sorry, I know I've been sounding like a pompous oaf through these notes, but I just wanted to give everyone the opportunity to know what they're getting into beforehand. As this story is basically me going out on a limb, I'd really appreciate your reviews and feedback. Even if you find it vile and horrid, I won't take offense. I'm playing darts near blindfolded and trying to come as close to the bullseye as I can, so knowing whether I'm warmer or colder would be a tremendous help.

Lastly, as I'm sure you'll quickly realize, this story takes place just a few weeks following the events of the movie.

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Hey Arnold!: The Sweet Hereafter

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Part I: The Sweet Hereafter

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_"It takes only a minute to get a  
crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to  
love someone, but it takes a lifetime to forget someone."_

--Unknown

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The last week of summer is, perhaps, the saddest point of the year for the young ones, except maybe for Christmas night, the point of the year that lay farthest from the next holiday season. But in those twilight days of summer vacation, there isn't much left to do but contemplate what was accomplished in one of the largest periods of free time one had. As Arnold and Gerald walked down familiar streets at dusk, each felt a feeling of accomplishment. Their summer had been the greatest yet, but there weren't many kids who could write their traditional first composition of the coming school year, "How I Spent My Summer Vacation," about having saved an entire neighborhood. Sure, it was old, and run down, but it was home.

Arnold occasionally looked at the sites around him, noting the signs of destruction that still hadn't been cleared. But no matter the condition of the sidewalks, life churned on, and each day was another chance to make the world a better place. Sometimes a big project, like keeping the homes of one's friends and loved ones from being bulldozed, was in order; but Arnold normally preferred to do it one person, one problem at a time. It went against basic human instinct, but Arnold hoped to see the concept of "paying it forward" take root within his lifetime.

"I think you're ball's going flat again." Gerald said as they entered the block where the old boarding house that Arnold called home was located.. "I mean, uh, it just needs a little air." He revised after seeing the look Arnold gave him.

Arnold shook his head to clear it. "No, you're right. It's going flat." He sighed. "I guess we're going to have to break down and get a new one."

"What happened to looking on the bright side?" Gerald asked.

"Sometimes you have to temper optimism with realism." Arnold explained. "Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, I guess." He chuckled. "I guess we better look for a new one tomorrow."

"What's all this we stuff?" Gerald asked. "It's your ball!"

"Gee, thanks for your unwavering support, Gerald." Arnold sighed again.

"Ah, I'm just messin' with you. We'll get a new one together. . .Hey! Remember this?!" Gerald jerked his thumb in the direction of the overpass, where their runaway bus had crashed on their desperate race against time to keep Sheck's bulldozers at bay. "This is where it all ended. Man, that was some night."

"You don't even know the half of it." Arnold replied wistfully, as a series of very confusing moments on the rooftop balcony of FTI came unbidden. Concentrating on the here and now, Arnold mentally grouped all the thoughts into a box and set them aside. He prided himself on having managed to avoid Helga almost entirely for the last several weeks, but it was still something he knew he had to deal with. Maintaining the status quo was all well and good, but there was still some lingering guilt in Arnold's mind that perhaps in his effort to make things easier on both of them, he may have done the girl a disservice. It was a moral dilemma that held no easy answers, and it also involved broaching a subject which was awkward in the least, mind boggling in the extreme.

"Are you kidding me?" Gerald asked. "I was the one driving the runaway bus, the **_real life_** runaway bus, through all that horror! You and Helga only had to work the pedals."

"You're right, I'm sorry for assuming. It was just. . .a rough night." Arnold explained. "But hey, we got the job done, and that's what matters."

"Darn right man. And after all that, I'm not sure if I'll ever be the same again. If nothing else, it's a story I'll have to tell well I'm as old as your Grandpa. It was like, I don't know, pure! We did it all for the love!"

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Part II: I Go To Extremes

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_"Out of the darkness, into the light  
Leaving the scene of the crime  
Either I'm wrong or I'm perfectly right every time  
Sometimes I lie awake, night after night  
Coming apart at the seams  
Eager to please, ready to fight  
Why do I go to extremes?"_

--Billy Joel

"I Go To Extremes"

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"Ok, so maybe it's true. I do go to extremes. It's my nature. Maybe I wouldn't have to if it weren't for him. I liked the way my life was before. Sure, far from ideal, but I understood it, I coped with it. Now it's like everytime I turn around, I feel like I should be punishing someone. Is it normal to hate someone because you love them? No, I can't be the only case. Just the only one that matters. All I ever wanted was for my life to make sense, is that too much to ask? Maybe so. The universe doesn't do favors for those of us who choose to make it a tougher place to live in. Then again, the say that fortune favors the bold, right? But enough of that."

"You know you're in trouble when you spend half a summer night on the roof, looking up at the stars and wondering if you're crazy. The alarm bells went off from me when I realized I've stopped caring whether or am I not. Sometimes I think I'm like one of those killers you see in the movies, the kind that one day picks up an axe and just takes out their whole family, then their friends, and then she just starts going after random people that remind her of the ones that made her that way. But that might be kind of messy."

"I don't hide my secret very well. But I guess I've never really had to. My magnificent Arnold is just oblivious enough for me to stalk him with relative impunity. Either I get a lot of breaks, or he just doesn't see what he doesn't want to see. I used to think that couldn't be possible, but ever since FTI. . .I can't be certain anymore."

"It's the hardest thing in the world. When you meet someone who through no great effort manages to be everything you're not with ease, what else are you supposed to feel but envy and rage? That's what no one else ever gets. I don't just lash out at him as a cover for what I really feel. There are times when he just really pisses me off for being a better person than I could ever hope to be. And then I realize that I could never stay mad at his bravery and eloquence, and then I get angry with him again for not being able to stay angry with him."

"No matter what I do, there's no in-between. I always love him. I frequently hate him. And one of these days, I'm probably going to go out of my mind. I could live with that. It's knowing that I have no one to blame for things but myself that's hard. But somehow I just keep going on with the facade, and I don't know how to stop. And some day, someone might expose me for the fraud I really am, and then what will happen to me? Will I lose control in anger, bare my soul to him or anyone that will listen, or just revel in the crumbling of my wall and beg Arnold to look upon my works?

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Part III: "Memento Mori"

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_"Memento Mori.__ . .Remember you will die."_

--Lemony Snicket

"A Series Of Unfortunate Events Volume 5: The Austere Academy"

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Love is the one thing I didn't want to talk about. What happened between myself and Helga Pataki was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. I still don't know what to make of it, no matter how many times I analyze it. The timing was all wrong, true, but I should've been more supportive. But I got caught up in the fear of the moment and backed off. Now I worry about what I've done. Arnold lightly kicked a loose stone in front of him as he contemplated the gravity of the situation. Gerald waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention. "All right, out with it Arnold. Why is it that every other time I've seen you over the last few months, you get this far off look like you're on some other planet."

Arnold blinked twice to clear the cobwebs out of his mind. "What? Oh, trust me Gerald. It's not something you'd want to know about, or even believe."

"You know that makes me want to hear it even more." Gerald insisted.

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you." Arnold replied hesitantly.

Five minutes and several laughing fits later, Gerald finally got his giggles under control when he realized the situation was serious. "So you're for real? This really happened?!"

Arnold nodded solemnly. "So good for you! You got through it and don't seem the worse for wear, right? Things stayed normal, Helga still hates you, and all's right with the world."

"It's not that simple." Arnold sighed. "The truth of the matter is I don't really know what to do, but I have to help Helga somehow. I behaved badly, and I think I really hurt her."

"How? You didn't shoot her down or anything. Things stayed the same."

"Exactly. Think about it. In a moment of passion and suspense, Helga tells me she loves me and always has. And what do I do? Nothing. I just stood there and let it happen, confused and frightened and not knowing what I'm supposed to do. And then when the battle was over and we saved our neighborhood, I offered her an out and she snatched it up like the last piece of candy. I barely even acknowledged her feelings. Who knows how long she took to say that, and now I've gone and driven it back inside her."

"So you do like her?" Gerald asked.

"I don't know." Arnold answered. "I can say that despite all the things she's done to me, I don't hate her or anything. But I never even considered the thought of liking her in that way. But now I worry I've hurt her feelings and damaged something that's good about her. I know how cruel she can be, and I can't help but feel that instead of nurturing that, I stoked the fires of anger and hatred within her."

"She has been mysteriously absent lately." Nodded Gerald.

"I've been trying to avoid her because I don't know what I should do. Plus I was afraid that if she saw me, it might make her angrier. I think. . .I need to know why. Having all that thrown at me was just too much information too fast, I just kind of shut down on her. I need to know why she loves me. Worse, I think she needs to know why. I can't possibly accept or refuse her feelings until I know more about them. But that would mean talking to her."

"You could always wait until school starts, she'll be pretty unavoidable then."

"I suppose a few more days couldn't make things any worse." Arnold agreed.

"Hey, if anyone has earned the right to sit around and stew for awhile, it's her." Gerald argued. "She's dished it out to us too many times to count."

"Maybe so, but I'm not going to respond in kind. I'm going to respond in kindness." Arnold smiled.

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-Part IV: "I Kissed An Angel"

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_"I do know that for the sympathy of one living  
being, I would make peace with all. I have love in  
me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and  
rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I  
cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other."  
_--The Creature__

"Frankenstein"

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"I kissed an angel once. The memory is still near enough that I can recall it with clarity. For the one brief instant in time, the world made sense and I understood everything and for the first time that I can really remember, I was happy. The feeling began to fade moments later when I realized he hadn't kissed me back. Perhaps that's my fault for coming on too strong. Or maybe I'm just unlovable. Criminey, I hope and pray it's the first one, otherwise I'm really up a creek."

"You really need a system if you're going to make the whole thing work. Lying to others isn't very difficult. Most people believe what they want to believe. Plausibility remains the key. But lying to yourself, now there's a difficult thing to do. Especially if you want to feel blissfully unaware of the lie. Me, I lie to myself all the time. It's much more preferable than telling the truth. But if you wake up every morning and convince yourself that you're loved, then you are. Doesn't matter how true it is or not. The human mind is susceptible enough to believe you, that's the beauty of it."

"Okay, so Arnold isn't quite the type of angel that meets on pinheads with his brethren. But what does it matter? He's an angel to me. No one really understands how amazing he truly is. He drives me crazy. I guess everyone has their virtues."

"I often wonder what I should've done differently. I couldn't plan everything! I was just so relieved when I finally told him and then nothing came of it at all. What was I thinking? Probably just looking for attention as usual. Getting attention isn't very difficult at all if you're willing to get a little creative."

"People don't often think of me as a woman. It must be my aggressive side shining through. I've tried so many times to get him to notice me on my own, but the whole freaking world's against me, I swear! Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever wake up from my nightmare, and then I realize my alarm is going off and I have to face another day at school. More lies to feed and noses that need punching. But I show up anyway. Beats sitting around the house with Miriam and Big Bob. But somehow, even through all the lying to myself I do every day just to get through, I feel like something's missing. I don't know why I'm like this. I should be stronger. But what's the point of putting up a strong front when he's already managed to get inside and there's nothing left to protect me?

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Part V: Such Great Heights

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_"They will see us waving from such great  
Heights, 'come down now,' they'll say  
But everything looks perfect from far away,  
'come down now,' but we'll stay..."_

--The Postal Service

"Such Great Heights"

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It was the first Friday back at school when Arnold scheduled an unavoidable confrontation with his nemesis and new project. This year, Helga's locker held the currently convenient yet possibly dangerous convenience of being only across the hall and one island down from Arnold's own.

"What do you want, football-head?" Helga asked snidely when he sidled up next to her and kept staring without saying anything. Curiously, she sounded like she was in even less of a mood to deal with him today than she was most of the time.

"I was thinking, about the summer. We almost lost it all. Gerard and I worked as hard as we could, but you really came through for us Helga. I never properly thanked you for that."

"Yeah, well, my life would be pretty boring without having you to push around."

"I'm sure." Arnold smiled. "Anyway, I thought you should know, I thought about what you said, and if you can tell me why sometime, we should talk about it."

Helga's head banged into the top shelf of her locker in shock at that comment. She yelped in pain and rounded on Arnold. "I have no idea what nonsense you're talking about! No will you get out of her before I punt your useless head down the hallway!"

"Sure Helga." Arnold smiled back at her calmly. "We'll talk about it another time." Arnold held his smile, turned around, and walked in the direction of his next class.

As soon as Arnold was safely away, Helga yanked out a notebook and began feverishly composing yet another poem, contemplating everything that she did for love.

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FIN

Afterword

I'm not exactly sure what this fic is, now that I'm done with it. But it's here to be widely quoted or mocked, or both, whichever you prefer. I'm sure it's far from perfect, but I hope that you found it an enjoyable read anyway. If you didn't like it, fear not, as I doubt I'll be doing another fic for HA for some time to come. It's not that I don't enjoy it, but I'm just involved in my fic for "The Weekenders" (shameless plug) and I just can't take on more than that at this time.

Again, this was all one weird experiment for me, but I'm dying to know if it was a good read or not, so please take a moment to leave me a review. Or even drop me an e-mail, or look for me on AIM. Whatever's easiest.

Don't forget to tip your servers on the way out. And as always, please send you questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to

Lord Malachite

09/14/04

4:29AM, EST

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	2. Tempting Fate

Due to your overwhelming positive responses, I have decided to throw caution to the wind and tempt fate. Probably a dangerous thing to do, but you have all given me faith in myself. Ergo, I know find myself crawling out even farther on a limb. Here's hoping it holds!

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The Sweet Hereafter: Tempting Fate

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Part VI: Speak Softly To Me

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_"The greatest weakness of most  
humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love  
them while they're alive."_

--O.A. Battista

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"That was uncalled for! But I guess I shouldn't expect much better. I've struggled to do something about it time and again. Maybe the fault lies with me, and I have no one to blame but myself. Like I'd ever do that. But every time I creep up on the issue, there's something that stops me, or coerces me into making a cover. That's what no one seems to get. Don't think I can't here the collective cries asking what I can possibly be so afraid of. I have everything to be afraid of. I'm still struggling to figure this whole love thing out, and whether it's worth it or not. It must be, considering everything I put myself through in the name of it. But if it's just so wonderful, then why don't I stop mucking about and come out with it?!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Despite everything I keep inside, maybe it's better as a fantasy. I've made my choices in life; I don't need anyone taking me on a tour of them. Do I lie to make myself happy? Of course. And if you're going to stand there and tell me you've never done the same, then you're a fool. Or a liar, and a big one at that. But what's wrong with that as long as you know you're deceiving yourself."

"It's dangerous to hope. But hope is all I have. No matter how fierce I present myself, I'm no match for the brick wall I run into time and again. I can't have things both ways. Despite what I want, Arnold will never reciprocate what I feel unless I'm willing to change my ways, let the warm and sunshine in. There are days when that option feels really tempting. It's not that I prefer to dwell in the underdark, but rather that I see myself as a realist. Someone like him, with their annoying, ever-present optimism, it can really just rub me the wrong way, until I want to pick him up by his stupid football head and shake some sense into him!"

"Can't anyone understand that? Why I always choose to hold back? What choice do I really have, when my only options are to join him or destroy him? No matter what I do, I'm going to end up losing a part of myself. So I sit here in the déjà vu of limbo. Maybe I'm just supposed to wait with my heart on tap until he rescues me. Or abandons me. Am I worth saving? I don't know, but I'll probably have to save myself someday. My cage isn't even gilded. It may be the biggest one on the block, but in the end, it's still a cage. I look out through my bars at the world below me. Not much to look at. Mostly squalor, but it's life, happening every day. I try not to take part in it. Oh, sure, I can go through the motions just as well as anyone else. But everyone knows the truth. I'm not one of them."

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Part VII: The Sun Also Rises

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_"Things need not have happened to be true. _

_Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths _

_that will endure when mere facts are dust _

_and ashes, and forgot."_  
--Dream,

"Sandman"

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"In those first few moments of consciousness, I don't have any idea what kind of day it is. Is the sun shining? Is the rain falling? I don't know. But I'm awake. Alive again, a perfectly good reason to appreciate this new day no matter what the weather. If I listen closely, I can hear the sounds of the boarding house around me as everyone goes through their morning rituals. I disconnect the potato from my alarm clock and open my eyes to see a bright sky with few clouds. The warm glow of the sun radiating down from above is almost enough to make me want to stay in bed all morning. Almost."

"It seems like no time at all before I'm back in the halls of PS 118. Everyone here helps make the place a little more unique. How many times have I walked these halls with Gerald? So why does it seem so different today? Did my world grow larger overnight? If anyone else noticed, they aren't showing it. Every conversation I've overhead has indicated that things are the same. But for some reason, I feel like I'm outside myself. I blink my eyes and it's like I can see my whole summer happening again in slow motion. Gerald, myself, Sheck holding The Tomato Document hostage, Helga, the bus. . . our final victory. And then I stop and wonder how I managed to keep the dream alive. But maybe that doesn't matter. It happens, and we all lived to tell about it."

"Why doesn't anyone else seem to understand that? Sid, Stinky, Harold, anyone? They just go about their lives like always. Maybe it doesn't seem as real to them. They weren't in the middle of it like Gerald and I. Even Helga must feel it a little. We are all just prisoners of the sweet hereafter. Maybe we do these things because of what we know. Change isn't comforting. But I do agree with him on one thing. Change is good. Personal change. Otherwise how are we supposed to grow as people? I guess that's what school is all about. We learn how to grow and change and adapt in the world, but we have our friends around us to help us get through the years. All we have to do is be there for each other." Arnold smiled to himself after sliding a small piece of paper into Helga's locker. "We have to make that effort."

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Part VIII: People Say I'm Crazy

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_"In my prison cell I think these words  
I was careless  
I can see that now  
I must be silent  
Must contain my secret smile  
I want to tell you  
You, my mirror  
You, my iron bars_

_No one understands  
No one knows my plan"_

--They Might Be Giants

"No One Knows My Plan"

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"I do have a secret. A really deep, dark secret, and it's not what you think. It's worse than that. Ask around, and people will tell you they know me. And they think they do. Depending on who you ask, you'll hear about how I'm nothing but a horrific bully, or I'm that misunderstood Pataki girl with the chip on her shoulder. Yeah, right. I don't know if anyone truly understands what I'm doing, not even Feeb. Because it wasn't until this summer that I realized all of it myself."

"Generally speaking, people piss me off. What more can you expect from me? The people who ushered me into this world were Bob and Muriel. That welcome wagon ran out of steam ages ago. Sometimes, when Bob is more disappointed in me than usual (which would be every day, mind you), I can tell he'd like nothing more than to stamp 'return to sender' on my forehead. But that's his problem. I don't have to justify myself to him. Even he doesn't get me anyway."

"Life is just like a game of kickball. The pitcher rolls the ball, and anything can happen after that. Maybe Stinky will get beaned. Maybe it's an out at first. Or maybe yours truly will kick a line drive. You never know until it's over, and then you have to live with the consequences. We all have our sins, our moments we aren't proud of, the things we wish we could take back. Sometimes, we even get that opportunity. I want to be more than I am. A poet would say that's what makes me human. But wanting something and getting it are two entirely different things, believe you me."

"So I do have my secret, the one thing I've even kept hidden from myself, much more than just my own feelings for my wondrous, darling Arnold. And it's all here with me. It's in the volumes of poetry I've written for him. It's in the details of every shrine I've built to him. It's written in each letter of my name I've had inscribed to the locket I carry around. It's the one thing I want more than anything else in this world, even more than him."

"I want to be found out. I want to be made a laughingstock. I want it to be shouted throughout the school and city blocks how Helga loves Arnold. I want to be backed into a corner with nowhere to run and to be exposed for the hypocrite I am! How many times have I come so close to that last step? How much evidence have I let dangle in front of his face? I've left a meticulous trail of writings and pictures and shrines that can be irrevocably traced to me, me, me! I want to be scandalized, and no one understands it! How could they? They don't realize what I do, they can't see how this is the only way I may ever be able to get him to see me for more than what I always appear to be. Because I do have love to give. How long now have I been scripting this play, and when will I allow it to climax? But isn't that just it? No one knows my plan."

"People say I'm crazy. I know, I've heard them. I don't really have the authority to deny that. Even my own family never misses an opportunity to remind me just how necessary they consider me to be. So why should I go around spreading sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows? People that think they relate to me think they've got the whole world figure out when they tell me that life is crap. Well doi! Did you really think you were the first person to come to this revelation? What did you expect?! Life sucks, get a helmet! It's either that, or find something to believe in. And for him, maybe I could have my faith renewed."

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Part IX: Never A Dull Moment

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_"Love is the hardest habit to break and the most difficult to satisfy."_  
-- Drew Barrymore

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"I love you, Arnold. Freak you, Arnold." Helga muttered to herself as she came across the yellow paper in her locker that simply read "We should talk," followed by his name. The idea that he actually wanted to talk to her was thrilling beyond compare, but the arrogance that he could just so casually decide that they should talk, as though she had nothing better to do! "One of these days I'm really going to put my foot up his-"

"Assistance needed!" hollered a familiar voice. Helga withdrew her head from her locker just in time to see two familiar faces barreling down on top of her. Recovering from the shock, she threw herself against her locker to avoid being run down as Sid and Stinky went flying by at warp factor ten. She understood why moments later when Wolfgang streaked by behind them. Helga paused for a minute to contemplate that. She really should put a stop to it, Sid and Stinky were under her jurisdiction after all, but decided she just didn't feel like it. Besides, she had bigger fish to fry.

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"So are we gonna go pick out a new basketball today?" Gerald asked his best friend later that afternoon."

"Might as well." Arnold shrugged with a smile. "Maybe we'll even have a little time to break it in."

"You were kind of quiet in school today man."

"Just a lot on my mind." Arnold explained.

"Please tell me you didn't let you-know-who get to you!" Gerald looked worried.

"Who, Helga? No, actually, I hardly thought about her at all. Trust me, I took the first step on that one. If she doesn't want to take one herself, that's her business. But at least I made the effort. Actually, I've been thinking a lot about this summer, and what's next for us. We don't have many of these years in our lives. When they're gone, they're gone, but I'm glad to have had them, and any more to come. I like to think that someday, when we're as old as Grandpa, we'll remember times like these, when we were just being best friends, more than we'll remember driving runaway buses."

"You really think that's how we'll remember it?" Gerald asked.

"It's how I will." Arnold smiled.

"Well, I know I'm never going to forget this past summer. And you know you won't either."

"How could I ever?"

"So Arnold, what was your solution?"

"To what?"

"To Helga."

"I told her we should talk."

"Isn't that like inviting the devil in for tea?"

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Part X: Melting In The Sun

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_"I am not used to being liked, but I'm quite familiar with hatred."_

--Gendo Rokubuungi (sic?)

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"I don't care what anyone else says, there's little difference between love and hate. Both require a great deal of concentration, sometimes even obsession. And in either case you're setting yourself up to be hurt. Have you ever looked at a river on a clear night? The reflections of the moon and stars show, but you don't really see your own reflection or even a shadow."

"I hold here in my hand four unassuming words that could lead to the answer I've been looking for. But now I find myself trying to get in touch with my inner script and figure out if this is my big scene or just another in a long line of rehearsals. And most of all, who should I get to play myself?"

"We all need our pain to guide us. It lets us know we're alive when we feel it. Or when we dish it out to someone else. Pain is something I'm quite familiar with. I feel it all the time, eventually you just get numb to it. Or you channel it. I rarely miss an opportunity to rip into someone else. Sure, it's fleeting and short lived, but sometimes it just feels right."

"Here I am, with the opportunity to finally talk with him about everything, and I'm hesitating again. Why do I always do that? Because I'm afraid. Rejection comes at too high a price. I've gotten this far, haven't I? Why should I tempt fate? I could just wind up doing something I'll regret. Too many times have I found a way to cheat fate, to put the toothpaste back into the tube. Maybe I've just become addicted to that thrill of tempting fate, trying to see how far I can push the envelope. Ha! Those who say that love can make you do crazy things have clearly never really tasted of hate. And when you're fortunate enough to have both, well, the sky's the limit. You can do anything! But if that's true, then why am I still here? Why am I always working on an angle for something or other?"

"There's a lot of damage that can be done with words. Hitting someone isn't nearly as bad. Even bruises heal over time. But say the wrong thing to someone who isn't strong enough to handle it, and they might never get over it. There's a totally perverse pleasure in just cutting someone down to size. But even that is fleeting. A temporarily solution that can't fill the void left inside. And so I'm forced to create more conflict. It's a situation that just feeds off itself. I guess I don't have the right to complain that no one understands my plan when no one would want to. But sooner or later, the game will end. And as much as I hate to admit it, I can't muscle my way to the conclusion I want. It might be easier if I didn't always live right on the edge. Funny thing about ice cream. If you leave it out of the freezer too long without eating it, it melts."

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Ten was the magic number guys, what can I say. I promised myself I'd look into the possibilities further if I could find ten individuals who thought what I had written was worth the effort. Looks like I found them. Your support has been very rewarding. This has been one of the worst weeks at work I can recall for some time, so coming home and finding such unexpectedly encouraging reviews was enough to make me forget all about the woes of work.

I've gotten ahold of some of the more important source materials, so next week I'll probably be in a better position for these kinds of writings. Not that I'm promising anything! To some of my most vigilant "Awakening" fans, this little project is a bit like staying out past curfew. They like what I'm doing but I'll probably get chastised if I keep putting off work on my main story.

I'm not at liberty to disclose the details just yet, but I can tell you that in the future, I have a solution ready to implement that should please fans of both stories.

Having finished that, I'll know reply to some of the questions asked of me in the reviews:

Shanni C—I am currently 25 years old. I majored in English, so I feel that makes me qualified to work on fanfiction. Fortunately, many other people seem to agree with me. The only drawback is I often find myself expanding the vocabularies of nine year olds to ridiculous proportions. I do try to reel that in when I can, but sometimes it's going to happen.

Wyldheart—I've heard all good things about you (not to say I hear bad things about anyone else). Check your e-mail.

Number 6—My schedule is booked tight, but by cutting it a bit close with work and sleep, I'm seeing it.

Gerard Dominus—You and I talk like every night already dude. Thanks for supporting me in all that I do. Don't worry, Awakening's future is secure.

Blonde Cecile—I've seen maybe four or five episodes as of this writing. I break it into parts because this isn't so much a traditional story. It's designed to be thoughtful and surreal. And the quotes are some of my favorite parts to put in, and I try to make them interactive with the even numbered parts, for obvious reasons. The fandom has been overwhelmingly welcome, thank you for doing your part. You've all been so nice, I came back for more.

The J.A.M.—Whoops, looks like my cover's blown. I like to think I have grown exponentially as a writer since those days. My one goal, whenever I release any of my fanfiction, is to make my readers feel something. If I haven't made you feel, or at least given you something to think about, I haven't done my job. Sometimes I fail, but this is the goal I strive for each time I upload something here at FFN.

Em—Yes.

Eyks—Glad to hear you loved it. I had my reasons for cutting it off, because this isn't a traditional fanfic. I'm still not really sure what it is and if I'm going somewhere with it. But the emotions are important to me, they're what I'm going for. I hope you liked these new parts just as much. I'm most partial to Part VIII, myself.

Arynnl—Guess there's just no displeasing you! I tried to carry over the same style to these new selections, so with a little luck, you'll enjoy this as well.

DarthRoden—I'm reading one of your stories right now. I'll let you know which when I finish it and review. In the meantime, please enjoy this latest humble offering.

Okay, I think that covers all of you as of this writing. Hopefully the update will bring you all back. And if you still find this worth reading, be sure to tell your friends. I also encourage you to send me e-mail or look for me on AIM. I always enjoy meeting new people!

As always, please send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

09/17/04

5:39AM, EST

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	3. Heart Of The Matter

The Sweet Hereafter: Heart Of The Matter

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Part XI: I Have A Purpose

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_"They might be giants, the gods must be crazy, we are the world, and I may be sick."_

--Gerard Dominus

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I have trouble believing that people aren't decent. Even Ann Frank believed that. There's something good in everyone. Sometimes you have to work at it, and sometimes it's easier to see than others. Everyone does bad things from time to time. Whenever I do something I realize was wrong, it eats away at me until I do something to correct it. There's no justification for behaving badly, and making excuses for it is only going to give people reason to continue. If we could all just follow our better natures, the world would be a better place. I'm not naïve enough to think that's going to happen, but working toward it sure beats wringing my hands and cursing the world.

I'm a big believer in paying it forward. When I help someone, my hope is that someday they'll help someone else. Maybe it's whimsical, but if even one person does it, it's a start.

Generally speaking, I like people. Someone once said we're the salt of the earth. And we are. We make our marks on each other and on the world every day. And our actions speak louder than our words. But sometimes, a kind or harsh word can stick with you. That's the kind of difference I like to make, that I like to see happen. Hey, we're all stuck with each other, and the planet becomes a little smaller every day. We should do what we can to make it an enjoyable experience, right?

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Part XII: Truth Be Told

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_"I have been accused of caring nothing for the truth, but on the contrary, I value the truth so highly that I make sure it is hidden away someplace safe, where it is not soiled by dirty hands, embarrassed by prying eyes, or worn out through overuse. The truth is an essential foundation for all our enterprises, but it is a delicate foundation which must be buttressed by good, solid fictions."_

--Trevor Goodchild

"Aeon Flux: The Herodotus File"

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"One if by land and two if by sea. There are really only two ways out of this place. Through the highway overhead, or the river below. Sometimes I don't know what I'm still doing here. How many people would really notice if I just took off? Most would just be happy to see an end to my reign. Can't say that I blame them. Staying here has turned my life into the living purgatory I've come to think of as normal. Normal, what a waste. You know what normal is? It's what everyone else is and you aren't. That's normal. I intend to do a lot better than that."

"Sometimes I wonder about my own future, in a place away from Bob's self-absorbed antics and Miriam's total indifference. It certainly doesn't matter what I do while I'm here. My life is meaningless to them as long as Olga's still alive. Not that I'm out to get her. I've thought about it plenty of times, some of my favorite fantasies next to. . .never mind, I don't want to talk about it. But what's the point anyway? There's nothing I can do to compete with her. So maybe the things I do are just my way of making them pay."

"Sometimes I shudder at what I might become. How far am I willing to go? What's it all for? Love? Duty? Am I just still chasing a dream because it's all I know? I'm feeding off the breadcrumbs he throws me. But I could have more, if I'd only stand up to myself. But I have the nature and poison of a scorpion, the quills of a porcupine, and the scent of a skunk. I'm so overtaken in defense mechanisms that I can't ever seem to keep the better parts of me on the surface. Every time I have his attention, I give him every reason to reject me outright. Why do I always do that? Why do I always throw away every opportunity to make a change? Even if I can't tell him how I feel, why can't I say just one kind-hearted thing to him? Why do I continuously punish him for crimes he hasn't committed."

"Liar! Of course he's committed crimes against me! Because of him, I have all these feelings I can't express or explain! If he didn't repeatedly turn the other cheek to me, look out for someone else, champion a noble cause. . .I wouldn't love him. I have to make him pay for that somehow, don't I?"

"Stop lying to yourself! This has nothing to do with him! It's you! You do these things because it's all you deserve!

"Shut up!"

"Stop making excuses!"

"Who's making excuses?! Criminey, it's true, it's all true, okay?! The reason I torture Arnold is because I'm protecting him, all right?! I'm protecting him from me! I'm saving him! It's better that I love him from afar where I can't run him down and destroy him like I do to everyone else! I don't deserve someone as good as him, and he certainly deserves someone better than me."

"No one will ever love you!"

"Shut up! If I can't have him than no one will!"

"Do you really believe that?!"

"I have to believe it!"

"Dream on sister, but the echo will never control the voice. It's just you and me against the world."

"I created you! You have to do what I say!"

"Do you think that just because you created me that you can control me? You foul, unnatural, loathsome little girl! You would've died if it weren't for me! I'm in charge here, not you!"

"Get out!"

"No. I do not wish to leave. I'm here to stay. I'm here to show the world your true nature. Our nature. And as any hopes of your misguided romantic dreams die, know that I, not you, am Helga G. Pataki. And my image will be remembered throughout these streets long after any idea of yours has faded to a dim memory."

"It's my life! Not yours!"

"It started out as yours. But you long ago delegated all authority to me. Perhaps if you had had the courage to face your life on your own, you might be a different person now. Consider that. I can think of no greater torture for you.

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Part XIII: Close Encounters

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_"I don't need no arms around me  
And I don't need no drugs to calm me  
I have seen the writing on the wall._

_Don't think I need anything at all._

_No!_

_Don't think I need anything at all_

_All in all, it was all just bricks in the wall_

_All in all, you were all just bricks in the wall"_

--Pink Floyd

"Another Brick In The Wall, Part 3"

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Author's Note: Normally I don't like to interrupt the flow of the story, but I didn't want to put this at the beginning and cause a spoiler. From this point forward (unless otherwise noted), there are essentially two voices for Helga. The normal font represents the Helga that interacts with the world around her. Writing in italics (except, of course, for my quotes that open each part) is best thought of as an inner Helga whom no one save Helga can hear. Confused? You'll get the hang of it soon enough!

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It was a relatively normal afternoon that found Arnold walking down the block to his home. The afternoon sun was shining at an angle, and traffic among the various storefronts seemed busy. Arnold was mentally organizing his homework for the evening as he walked the streets, enjoying the fresh air while he could. Tonight's homework load wasn't overly burdensome, but he intended to get in on a stickball game tomorrow and he wanted to get ahead this evening to enjoy tomorrow afternoon to its fullest.

While Arnold was busy deciding which order to attack his homework in, he was unaware of a familiar nemesis dressed in pink and white, lying in wait around the next corner. Helga Pataki pressed herself flat against the building, counting the seconds on her watch. Timing was everything, and she prided herself on this dance. Her mouth was stretched wide in an uncommon smile, but this time, something was different. Her heart wasn't fluttering. There were no lovelorn sighs to escape, no lamenting of being unable to find a proper way to express her undying love. Helga was a leopard about to pounce on her prey, and Arnold was going to be her after school snack.

"Five. . .four. . .three. . .two. . .one. . .action!" Helga grinned wickedly as she removed herself from the wall, took half a step backwards, and then began a quick forward motion. Just as planned, she and Arnold rounded the corner at the same time, colliding forcefully.

It took Arnold a moment to recover before his brain reminded him it was time for his literal daily run in with Helga. "Sorry Helga. I guess I didn't see you there." Arnold said, gathering his books and searching to see if Helga might need assistance with anything. As he placed his books back into his backpack, he wondered which combo if insults she would respond to his apology with today.

"Sorry? I'll say you're sorry, Hair Boy. You're the clumsiest numbskull I've ever seen!" Helga shouted at him.

Hmm, number twelve. Not too creative. Helga must have a lot on her mind. "Are you okay?" Arnold asked, offering a hand to help her up.

"No thanks to you, Football Head!" Helga waved his hand away as she picked herself up off her fanny. Much better. I love the way I tower over him. Makes him so much easier to crush.

_Hey, you can't do that to him!_

Shut up. "You know, Arnold-o," Helga began, emphasizing the derogatory ending, "I'm really freaking tired of you running into me like this. But you just keep on doing it. So I guess you must enjoy pain."

"Not really." Arnold said flatly. "I just happen to live around the corner."

"Well then," Helga clapped her hands together loudly, "perhaps I should just start exacting a toll for the use of my sidewalk."

_Stop it! This isn't how the game goes! We bump into each other, I yell at him, he apologizes! I get my fix and we do the whole thing over again tomorrow!_

Not anymore. "I think it's time I taught you a lesson on how to treat a lady."

"Look, Helga, it was an accident. I didn't mean to bump into you. Can't we just let it go?"

Look at him. He's so small and weak, I'll bet I could break his jaw with just one punch. This is the boy you expect to fulfill all your hopes and dreams? Forget pounding him, a stiff breeze could send him into next Tuesday! Helga snarled down at Arnold.

_Don't hurt him!_

Why not? That's all he's good for!

_Please! You already have me to push around. Isn't that enough?_

Hardly. Although I think I will let him go. . .for now. I prefer to play with my food before I eat it. "Listen up, and listen good, Football Head. If you ever bump into me again, you can do your explaining to Ol' Betsy. Am I making myself clear?"

"Whatever you say, Helga. Nice talking to you." Arnold sighed and moved past the girl.

"How Disappointing." Helga mumbled after he passed. "He wasn't afraid of me at all. Maybe he would learn a little respect if you weren't so soft on him all the time."

_Okay, you've had your fun, now let go! I'll be deciding what's best for Arnold!_

You're hardly in a position to be deciding what's best for anyone. Besides, he isn't the only person you should be worried about.

_What?_

You fail to realize the seriousness of the situation, don't you. Don't worry. That's what I'm here for. I see I haven't been vigilant enough, I've given you far too much slack.

_What are you talking about?_

First you sign and seal your heart away to that weak little nothing, and then you go giving away our secrets. For what? So people can use them against us? I don't think so. No, one of them absolutely must be dispensed with. The choice is yours.

_Who has to be dispensed with? I don't have to do anything you say!_

I don't have all day. Make your choice. Arnold or Phoebe. Which one goes?

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You know, originally I had intended to write more here, but I think it's best if I leave it off as it is. The story isn't done, mind you, but this just seems like the best place to leave off until next time. Part of being a good writer is knowing when to make an exit. I understand the story changed considerably here, but hey, it has a hook now! I just have a few little parts to figure out, but I think I more or less have the whole thing planned. Not bad, considering I went into this whole thing a week ago not really having any idea what I was doing.

As always, your support has been instrumental in giving me the strength to continue this. Some of the writing I've done has been very emotional. And even though they're not my feelings…well, I've always believed that fictional people are people too, and invading their privacy, while fun, can also leave me feeling guilty. I know, I'm weird. Most fans of my reading know that all too well!

Thanks to everyone who reads "The Sweet Hereafter." I will try to make it worth your while. If you like the story, tell your friends! Or at least, tell me. That's what the review box is for. Or e-mail. Or AIM. Whichever you prefer.

Lastly, I just want to say that it's a real pleasure to contribute to this community and I hope to keep doing it for some time to come. I can tell at least one among you seem to really enjoy the things I do with Helga. I feel a lot of that comes from the fact that she's the most human of all the characters on the show, because she rolled heaviest on the quirks and flaws table, as they say in the RPG circles. And the story is largely about her, and I can tell you that where it goes and how it ends is completely up to her.

As always, please send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

09/20/04

3:31AM, EST

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	4. The Downward Spiral

The Sweet Hereafter: The Downward Spiral

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Part XIV: Cage

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_"I must not fear.  
Fear is the mind-killer.  
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.  
I will face my fear.  
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.  
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.  
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.  
Only I will remain."_  
-- Frank Herbert's Bene-Gesserit Litany against Fear.

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_I cry as I pound my fists against my invisible cage for the hundredth time. How could I have let this happen? I'm better than this, aren't I? What have I done? Why didn't I see this coming? I. . .I guess I didn't want to see it. I thought I was strong, but I'm not. She is. I created her, nurtured her, all to protect me. And she has. She shelters me from the dangers of others. She makes sure no one gets close enough to hurt me. Why is she doing these things to them, though? Doesn't she understand that Arnold and Phoebe belong? They're okay; they don't want to hurt me! But she won't let them stay. _

_I have to get out of here and stop her before she destroys everything good left about me. I'm not afraid of who I am, the things I've done. Yes, I've made mistakes. I've hurt others, run them down, lashed out at them. That's who I am. I can't help that. I want to. I want to be better. But I can't do it alone. And once she's finished, there won't be anyone left to help me._

_I have to do more than apologize. I HAVE TO! Listen to me Arnold, I'm coming! I won't let her get away with this! Don't believe her, don't listen to her. She isn't real, I swear it! I'm not afraid of you!_

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Part XV: Keep Your Friends Close. . .

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_"Out of the night that covers me  
Black as the Pit from pole to pole  
I thank whatever gods maybe  
For my unconquerable soul._

_In the fell clutch of circumstance  
I have not winced nor cried aloud  
Under the bludgeonings of chance  
My head is bloody but unbowed._

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
Looms but the horror of the shade  
And yet the menace of the years  
Finds and shall find me unafraid._

_It matters not how strait the gate  
How charged with punishment the scroll  
I am the Master of my fate  
I am the Captain of my soul."_

--William Earnest Henley

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"You're so predictable." Helga laughed derisively as she walked briskly through the neighborhood. "So weak, no guts at all."

_Shut up._

"You really will do anything for love, won't you?"

_I said shut up!_

"Temper, temper, my dear. You made your choice. This will be a night Phoebe never forgets, I promise!"

_Freak you! What has Feeb ever done to you?_

"To me? Nothing. This isn't for me, it's for you."

_Phoebe is my friend! She's one of the few people in this world who understands you're the character I created! She would never do anything to hurt us!_

"You would take her at her word. That's why I'm in charge."

_Stop this!_

Helga did stop her walk, putting her foot up on a stoop and furrowing her eyebrow. "This is the only way. Someday, you'll understand that. I don't hate Phoebe. Truly I don't. But she knows about us, and she knows about him. She's too dangerous to keep around! What if she accidentally let something slip?"

_Phoebe would never. . .this has nothing to do with Phoebe! Nothing! She would never betray me!_

"She won't, once I'm finished. We're finished. I'll need your help for this one."

_No!_

"She doesn't have to die, you know. We just have to make her go away; make her forget a few things. She can find another best friend."

_She's my best friend!_

"Look, this is all getting a little bit silly. We're already considered to be a bit out there, do you want people to see us talking to ourselves?" Helga laughed.

_I don't care about that! I care about my life! I care about my friends!_

"You really ought to be more careful. Someone might see you showing something resembling human emotions. You know, maybe I should change the plan. We don't have to go get Phoebe. Want me to swing by Arnold's house? I could seduce him for you. Make him yours."

_You stay away from him!_

"Just like you always do. Write long soliloquies on how Arnold is all you want, but what do you do in the end? You'd rather be safe than be happy. Very well, safe it is. I'll take care of Phoebe and make Arnold hate us. Then it will be just you and me, alone and safe. As you want it to be."

_That's not true! I don't want to be alone! I want to stay with my friends. I want my parents to notice me! I want Arnold to love me! I want. . .to know I'm alive by more than just pain._

"You can't trust them, you know. Remember who brought us into this world, remember what they did to us! We can't trust anyone else! Don't you know that no one will love you like I can?"

_"You're not real."_

"I'm real to you! And now, because you've chosen to hide yourself where you'll be safe, I'm real to everyone else as well." Helga turned to get a glimpse of her reflection in a storefront window. "And I don't look too bad. Really should do something about the bow, maybe something with these pigtails too." She grinned, pulling on them just hard enough to feel a dose of pain. "Not bad though."

_I'm not going to compliment my own body, you psycho!_

"There, you see? Some of me has rubbed off on you after all. Not so bad, is it?"

_Well I had to survive, didn't I?_

"Don't you see? We're the same, you and I."

_We're supposed to be together._

"Lover."

_Fighter._

"Join back with me. Together we'll get rid of those that could hurt us and be at peace."

_No. I haven't forgotten those terrible things you said to me. What you might've done to him._

"I was merely trying to motivate you."

_I don't believe you. You've changed. I still remember when we first worked together._

"We herded those weaklings like the foolish cattle they are."

_For what? I lost him that day, because of you._

"Don't be so vain. You sought me in that moment. You begged me for help, nurtured me, called to me. And I came. I gave you my strength. Thanks to me, no one laughs at you now who doesn't regret it later."

_No one likes me either. They tolerate me. They give me a wide berth to stay clear of my wrath. They laugh as I pick on Arnold or anyone else unfortunate enough to get caught in my sights, all the while being relieved they're not the one I've singled out. But they don't really like me. No one would miss me if I was gone, and many of them would be relieved._

"Nobody likes a whiner."

_It's true!_

"Shut up! We don't need them, any of them!"

_You're pathetic._

"Enough! I'm going to pound Phoebe good for that one. And then, after she's broken, I'm going to find Arnold and make him hate us!"

_NO!_

"Yes. We'll both be better off without--"

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Part XVI:. . .And Your Enemies Closer

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_"The strong individual loves the earth so much he lusts for recurrence.  
He can smile in the face of the most terrible thought: meaningless,  
aimless existence recurring eternally. The second characteristic of  
such a man is that he has the strength to recognize -- and to live with  
the recognition -- that the world is valueless in itself and that all values  
are human ones. He creates himself by fashioning his own values;  
he has the pride to live by the values he wills."_

--Nietzsche

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Fate is a funny thing. And for Phoebe Heyerdahl, it was about to become a tremendous stroke of luck. Unfortunately, most of it would be bad. Phoebe was smiling innocuously at the world as she exited Green Meats with a small package in her hand. Nothing terribly exciting, but her parents had asked her to stop off on her travels that afternoon. Helga had completely disappeared after school, and every time she had dialed Gerald's phone number, she found herself hanging up before the first ring. Curious, she rarely had trouble talking to her friend, but Phoebe remained confident that whatever subconscious inhibition was keeping her from calling him would be temporary at best. And so, she walked the streets alone yet not unhappy. She enjoyed the late afternoon sun, all the more when the weather forecast predicted a dramatic thunderstorm would be moving in quickly over the next few hours.

Phoebe walked unassumingly through the streets, only in a general direction. She intended to be home for dinner, but she had little else to do this afternoon, and her package would keep for an hour or so. A little exercise would allow her to clear her head, keeping her mind sharp for the next day—Fridays tended to hold several varieties of pop quizzes.

So it was with certain irony that has Phoebe rounded a corner, she should see a familiar figure appearing to have an animated conversation with her reflection. "Helga?" Phoebe wondered aloud, still out of her friend's earshot. What was she doing? "Hey, Helga!" Phoebe called out, trotting in her best friend's direction.

Helga turned towards Phoebe's approaching form with a smile much too wide for comfort. "Well hi there, Phoebe. And how are you this afternoon, hmm?" Helga spoke through her grin, allowing it to settle into a more neutral expression. Its disappearance did nothing to dissipate the memory for Phoebe.

"I'm well." Phoebe smiled shyly. "I didn't see you after school and you weren't at home when I called, so I went out for a little walk. I picked something up for my parents at the butcher shop. They're going to make food to donate to the soup kitchen."

"My my, such a noble cause, wouldn't you say?"

"Why yes, of course!"

"So Feebs, dinner isn't for two more hours. What do you say we go and get a little ice cream."

"I-Ice cream?"

"Yeah, you know, the sweet, velvety kind that melts in your mouth, and you can't stop thinking about how good it is."

"I, um, I'm not very hungry, Helga." Phoebe answered.

"Oh come on, now. It's a perfect, sunny day. What better weather to eat ice cream in, right?"

"Actually, Helga, the weather man said there's a big storm--"

"Whatever!" Helga waved her off. "C'mon Phoebe, we're going to get some!" Helga insisted, taking hold of Phoebe's wrist.

"Helga, what's wrong?"

"You know a lot about ice cream, don't you? You know my favorite flavor, the toppings I like best, why, you're just a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge, aren't you? You really are at the top of the heap in school. There's just no denying it." Helga smiled. "What a great threat you are. . .to the grade curve."

"I guess that's one way of looking at it, yes." Phoebe's eyes darted back and forth as Helga kept moving closer to her.

_Run!_

"That's why I'm so glad to have you as a friend, Phoebe. You really understand me. You know how I think, you get me. I appreciate that."

_Phoebe! Can't you hear me? You have to run!_

"I. . .am glad you are my friend as well." Phoebe felt like she was getting smaller.

Helga nodded. "It's just too bad, though."

"What's too bad?"

_Please don't hurt her!_

"Shut up! I gave you the choice, Football Head or Feeb! You made it, so live with it!" Helga yelled.

"What?" Phoebe asked, feeling very confused and becoming frightened.

"You know entirely too much about me, Phoebe. I'm afraid I just can't have you hanging around, you might tell someone my secrets." Helga spat down at her, her face becoming one large sneer.

"I wouldn't do that! Helga, you're my friend."

"Well good! Since you're my friend, you won't mind forgetting everything about me. You know, a little amnesia?"

_Stop this! Phoebe! It's not me! This isn't who I am! You have to believe me!_

"But Helga, while psychology has proven that selective amnesia is indeed a true mental capability, the ability to--" Phoebe never had time to process what was happening as Ol' Betsy collided with her jaw. Phoebe flew backwards from the impact, dropping the small package from the butcher shop, her glasses flying end over end, catching the rays of the sunlight and creating rainbows on the pavement below. Helga was standing in place. She had been about to follow up with the full force of the Five Avengers, but saw little point as she gazed on Phoebe's crumpled form.

. . ._Phoebe. . . how could you do that to Phoebe? You're insane!_

"Am I?" Helga asked, shaking her wrist to shrug off any sting the impact of the punch might have caused. She walked slowly and purposefully towards the young Heyerdahl, each step making a purposeful sound that thrummed in Phoebe's ears as her senses slowly began to return. Helga stopped beside her friend, raising her left foot and planting it squarely on the girl's chest. "If I ever hear you talking about me or ice cream to anyone, so help me, I'll beat you so hard you'll be able to make a necklace out of your teeth." She ground her foot into Phoebe's chest for emphasis. Phoebe could only nod in both shock and fear at this horrific display of unjustified anger.

Looking thoroughly disgusted, Helga yanked the bow off her head and let it fall onto Phoebe's shirt. The girl stared up at Helga, not knowing how to respond to this unprecedented and unwarranted cruelty, feeling a mixture of fear, anger, and concern regarding her friend.

Helga returned the stare intently. She lifted her foot off of Phoebe and prepared to go on her way. Taking one last look at the girl she had always considered her best friend, Helga kicked her dispassionately. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a craving I need to satisfy."

Phoebe coughed as Helga walked away, still stunned by the abject violence. Something was very wrong with Helga, and she had to do something before the girl hurt anyone else, or worse, herself. It took Phoebe two full minutes to pick herself up, and she had to feel around for her glasses. Finding them a full yard away from where she went down, she slowly picked them up. One lens had been pulverized, but the other was salvageable. The frames mercifully hadn't been bent and seemed undamaged.

Phoebe's first instinct was to run home, but she replayed what Helga had said in her mind and instead began frantically searching for the nearest payphone. She had to get help for Helga fast or else her friend might do something she'd regret for the rest of her life!

-

-

-

Okay, that's the end of this chapter. Written entirely in one night, can you believe it? But that's not all! I'm immediately moving into the next one, because I feel like I'm on a roll!

Would be a real kick in the head if it gets posted tonight as well. Mind you, I'm not promising anything, but it's a small possibility. If not, I'll definitely get it out tomorrow night. I think. I've got a dull toothache that's beginning to get more serious. I hope I can get this story wrapped up before I have to have that taken care of. . .

Anyhow, I know the story has gotten a little surreal here, but it's all planned. I know exactly where I'm going, and I hope it's an enjoyable (if bizarre) read for you all. I promise to keep working hard until this one's finished!

As usual, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

09/21/04

3:22AM, EST

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	5. Storm And Release

The Sweet Hereafter: Storm And Release

-

-

-

Part XVII: Stare Into The Abyss

-

-

_"Beyond these thin hide walls  
a child sits, before her on worn silk  
a Deck is arrayed.  
She cannot yet speak  
and the scenes before her  
she's never before seen in this life.  
The child gazes upon a lone card  
named Obelisk, the stone grey  
she can feel its roughness in her mind.  
Obelisk stands buried in a grassy knoll  
like a knuckle protruded  
from the earth, past and future.  
This child's eyes are wide  
with terror, for cracks have appeared  
in the stone of stones and she knows  
the shattering is begun."_  
--_Silverfox_

Steven Erikson

-

-

-

Phoebe felt exhausted as she finally made it to a payphone. Her eyesight was a bit impaired with only one functional lens in her glasses, but she was able to put a quarter into the coin slot and dial the number without much difficulty. She was very relieved when someone picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Arnold! Oh thank goodness!" Phoebe let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Arnold, it's Phoebe. Listen to me, something terrible is happening!"

"Phoebe?" Arnold seemed puzzled by the call. "Sure, what's up?"

"It's Helga! She's. . .something's very wrong with her, Arnold. She just attacked me!"

"What?" Arnold could feel a deep anger building up inside him. It wasn't a feeling that he liked, but something had to be done. If Phoebe was telling the truth, then he couldn't let Helga get away with it. Still. . .Helga definitely had a cruel side, and she would even snap at her best friend Phoebe from time to time. But to attack her? No, he just couldn't believe that Helga would do that to her of all people. "Phoebe, are you okay?"

"I'm okay." She said, a cough betraying her. "I will be anyway. She only hit me, I'll be okay."

"Phoebe, it's not okay that Helga hit you.!" Arnold felt the anger growing all over again.

"Something's wrong, Arnold. You know Helga would never do that to me! But she's looking for you, Arnold! You need to be ready!"

Arnold sighed. "I'm not going to fight Helga."

"Good. I wouldn't want you to. She's not herself! Something's wrong with her. You have to help her!"

"Help her?" Arnold felt puzzled. "If Helga's having a problem, Phoebe, I'm happy to help her with it. But this doesn't seem very simple. Where is she now?"

"I don't know. But I'm certain she's looking for you!" Phoebe's voice took on an unmistakably pleading tone.

"Look, maybe we should call her parents." Arnold sighed again. A long moment of silence passed as Phoebe ignored the comment. "Okay, Phoebe. If you say Helga needs my help, then I'll help her. What would you like me to do?"

"Meet me in the park. Until we figure out a plan, we should try to avoid running into her. I'll wait for you by the tunnel."

"Okay." Arnold acknowledged. "See you soon, Phoebe." As he heard the girl hang up on the other line, he wondered if he would regret this course of action. Ordinarily, Arnold had no problem with helping others, even Helga. But something about this time just seemed off. Phoebe had convinced him of that. This wasn't right. Helga was a bully by nature and certainly not afraid to dig her feet in and wave her fists around, but she wouldn't just haul off and attack her best friend for no real reason. She wasn't heartless.

Arnold packed up his room, taking just a moment to tidy things. He probably wouldn't be back until bedtime, anyway, what was the use of leaving everything out. Paying heed to the weather report, he wore a jacket over his usual attire. Satisfied that he was as ready as he'd ever be, he made the long walk downstairs.

"Hey ya Short Man, where ya off to?" Phil asked as Arnold made his way past the kitchen.

"I'm going out. A friend needs my help. Tell Grandma I. . .might be late for dinner."

"Y'want us to save y'some?"

"Yeah. That'd be fine. See you later, Grandpa."

"G'bye Arnold! Have fun!"

"Yeah. . .fun." Arnold mumbled to him self as he exited the building and began the walk towards the park.

-

-

"Well, well, well, that's was more fun than I'd expected, wouldn't you agree?" Helga grinned mischievously as she followed her meandering path to Arnold's house.

_I hate you! _

"Relax. Phoebe will be just fine. I didn't see any reason to waste much energy on her. The important thing is that she learns proper fear and respect.

_Why should anyone respect you? You're just a monster!_

"I am you, Helga old girl! We're just different features of the same person. Were our roles reversed you'd be doing exactly as I am!"

_I'd never hurt someone who didn't deserve it!_

"Even him?"

_………_

"Ah, now the truth comes out. You do enjoy hurting Arnold!"

_No I don't. I hate myself for it._

"Then why don't you stop?"

_Because I don't like the alternative. Because I'm afraid I'll disappear. Because if I didn't blast him with a steady stream of punishment, everyone would know._

"Are you really so naïve as to think that anyone would really care how you do or don't feel about him for more than a day or so? How weak. The Helga Pataki I'm proud of wouldn't stand for anyone's teasing it if they did care. She'd stand in defiance with her fists raised and dare the others to make something of it."

_It's…not that simple. _

"Oh but it is! How can you bow as slaves before their opinions? Well, I don't intend to do that. And if they thinking smacking Phoebe around was cruel, wait until they get a load of the next act. I'm gonna turn him into an ice cream sundae!"

_I won't let you get away with this! Ever!_

"Do you really think I won't? If you can stop me, then do it. Don't think, just act. You always overthink everything. So tell me, what exactly is your plan for getting Arnold to fall for you anyway? Do you think maybe after you hit him with the one millionth spitball he'll just suddenly find you irresistible?"

_No._

"Or maybe insulting him really is the best way to his heart. I could say some really nasty things about his parents for you. Would that be any help?"

_Shut up!_

"No. I don't have to. You see, you just can't make any kind of decision. You love Arnold, yet you won't accept him. And until you learn to do that, you're incapable of any growth. It's so simple! All you have to do is relax and say it's okay to love him. But you just keep resisting. And so, this is what you now face. You've already decided not to let him in, so I've come to harden your heart. It's better you grieve now, that's most therapeutic. Because once I've finished, you won't feel for him anymore. In fact, you won't feel much at all. Just you and I, and a world to ourselves, away from those who might bring pain and suffering with them. Just you and I."

_Just try it! I'll stop you! I swear, somehow I'll stop you!_

-

-

-

Part XVIII: The Clouds Gather

-

-

_"Nine to five  
Living lies  
Everyday  
Stealing time  
Everyone's taking everything they can  
Everything they can  
Everyone's taking everything they can  
Everything they can_

_Do you believe  
In what you see  
Motionless wheel  
Nothing is real  
Wasting my time  
In the waiting line  
Do you believe  
In what you see"_

--Zero 7

"In The Waiting Line"

-

-

-

Arnold had little trouble finding Phoebe in the park, and they discussed the situation, trying to formulate some sort of plan.

"And after she was finished with me, Helga dropped this." Phoebe reached into a pocket and pulled out Helga's pink bow.

"She just left it behind?" Arnold said, befuddled. He took the proffered bow from Phoebe. "That doesn't make any sense. Helga never goes anywhere without this. Helga without her bow is like. . .me without my hat."

"The way she was acting, it was like she didn't need it anymore. Or at least she didn't want it."

Arnold turned the accessory over and over in his hands, the action dragging an old but surprisingly vivid memory to the surface of his mind. He had always thought the bow complemented her well, and still did today, even if the Helga he knew today didn't match well to his first impression. "You're right, Phoebe, something's definitely wrong. Helga never goes anywhere without her bow, it must be important to her. She wouldn't just abandon it unless something was very wrong. We need to find her."

"I think she'll find you soon enough, Arnold."

"I'll make sure she does." He still couldn't believe that Helga had given her best friend a beating. It was so. . .pointless. Nearly everything Helga did seemed calculated. Even his own encounters with her, they often felt surreal, scripted even. But this was totally random. "Was there anything else that seemed wrong about Helga? I mean, besides hitting you and all."

"She sounded really angry." Phoebe added. "More than usual. And a lot of the things she said didn't make much sense. She also acted as though she had an audience even though no one else was there."

"I see." They had come to the edge of the park. No Helga in sight. "Phoebe, I've got an idea." He ushered them in the direction of Helga's building, wondering if there would be time enough to work out a solution.

-

-

-

Part XIX: The Storm

-

-

_"I guess I'm just an old-fashioned sentimentalist at heart. I refuse  
to accept a no-win scenario. I hate the thought of a universe without  
justice. If the maneuverings of dark powers can't be exposed and  
defeated by the pure of heart, then there's no point in anything. I   
can't believe that."_

--Benjamin Hutchins

-

-

-

The weather began to look threatening as the next hour and a half rolled by. Clouds moved in rapidly, blotting out the sun and threatening to unleash a torrent of water on the citizens below. Already the wind was kicking up, and both Phoebe and Arnold were feeling its effects on top of the building Helga lived in. From their high vantage point, they were able to keep a close watch on their quarry, which was waiting impatiently in an alley just across from the boarding house Arnold lived in.

"Okay, so she's down there. Now what?" Phoebe prodded as they continued to stare intently down at Helga, who was growing more frustrated by the minute.

"I was hoping she would come back here so we could surprise her, but I guess that's not going to happen." Arnold explained.

"So what do we do now?"

"Perhaps something uncertain." Arnold moved towards the end of the roof, in clear view of the street below. "Hey, Helga!" he called, getting the girl's attention and scattering her view as Helga began darting her head all over to find the source of the sound. "Just follow my lead." He spoke quietly to Phoebe before turning back to Helga. "I'm just up here with your good friend Phoebe. She had some very interesting things to say about you, you know!"

"WHAT?!" Helga snarled. "I told you to stay away--"

"Hi, Helga!" Phoebe smiled warmly despite her somewhat disheveled appearance from the early beating.

"I swear, as soon as I get up there, I'm going to grind you both into powder!" Helga stamped off in the direction of her home.

"Whatever you say, Helga." Arnold smiled, knowing full well it would irritate Helga even more.

"How'd you know to say that?" Phoebe asked. "I haven't told you anything about her!"

"You guys have known each other for years." Arnold shrugged. "I figured you had to have some dirt on each other. Gerald and I are like that."

"Really?!" Phoebe beamed.

"Um, yeah. Don't tell him I told you though." Arnold smiled. "Well kept guy secret and all, girl talk isn't just for girls."

Both Arnold and Phoebe could hear the sound of metal rattling, a clear indication that Helga was thumping her way up the fire escape. Phoebe shuddered slightly. "In case she creams us, Arnold, I just wanted you to know, I'm glad you at least tried to help. It's more than a lot of people would do for someone like Helga."

Arnold refrained from responding, focusing instead on the top of the metal ladder that Helga's form was now rising over. As the girl climbed atop the roof, Arnold realized how changed she appeared. Her right pigtail was undone, the hair flowing freely, while the other remained stubbornly fastened. But the real difference was visible in the empty spot where Helga's bow used to stand. It still resided in Arnold's pocket, waiting for the right time to make its way home.

"Ah, good evening, Football Head. I see you and my so-called best friend have been busy!"

"We were thinking about you," Phoebe tried to explain. Arnold gave her a look which signified that she should refrain from speaking.

"Hi Helga." Arnold said flatly.

"Hello yourself! You know, I never get tired of reminding you how much I hate you."

"I'm sure you don't." Arnold ignored the comment. "You know, Helga. I used to think there was something about you. Sure, you've always been a bully and mean-spirited, but then I'd see you do something nice for someone like Phoebe, and I'd realize that there was more to you, you just choose not to show it too often."

"Well doi! What do you take me for, some kind of freak?"

_Look at him! My darling love god! He'll never let you do it, you know. He'll never let you hurt him or Phoebe. He's too strong for that._

"I just don't know anymore, Helga. Why would you want to hurt your best friend in the world? You don't deserve any of the pity you have. You want to run me down and call me names, fine, I don't care. But if this is how you're going to start treating people, then I don't want to do this anymore. I used to think you were special. But I guess there's something about me that just really ticks you off. Well I'm sorry, but that's just how I am. If I bother you so much, why don't you walk a different way home from school?"

"Don't be absurd!" Steam came out of Helga's ears. "You little. . .I don't know why I didn't pound you into dust years ago!"

"I'm just tired, Helga. I'm tired of you. I used to think that there was something inside of you that was worth the trouble." Arnold paused, putting an arm around Phoebe. The rain started coming down then, and both Arnold and Phoebe shuttered a bit from the cold. "But not after today. Find someone else to abuse."

_It's not me, Arnold! I'd never do this! _

"I guess this was easier than I thought." Helga smirked. "Well then, I guess all that's left is to turn you two black and blue before I get soaked.

_NO!!!_

"Shut up! Care to watch?"

_No! _Somewhere inside, Helga pushed with all her strength, drawing on a reserve she didn't know she had until it was called upon. _I won't let you touch him!_

"Oh, you're going to stop me? Like you stopped me from hurting Phoebe? This should be good!"

_Don't think, just feel. Don't think, just feel. Don't think, just feel. Don'tthink, justfeel. Don'think, just feel. Don'thinkjustfeel. Don'tthinkjustfeel.Don'tthinkjusfeel. . ._

"Eh?" Helga blinked, she could've sworn she had heard something in her shatter. "No!"

_I'm back._

"Too late!" Helga ran directly into Arnold, knocking him onto the ground. Arnold went down lightly and had little trouble picking himself up, but Helga had kept on running. Arnold thought he could see a glimmer of recognition within the girl as she turned towards him again.

"Arnold?" Helga asked.

"Helga?" He replied.

"I. . .I just. . .I wanted to tell you. . .I'm sorry about. . ." Actions spoke much louder than words, however, and through whatever Helga was trying to say, Arnold felt her strong hands squeezing on his throat.

"No, Helga!" Phoebe tried to pry her friend off of the boy, but found herself swatted away like an insect.

"Isn't this perfect?" Helga smiled. "That I'm here for you, in the end? It's not so bad a way to go, is it?"

Arnold's vision was beginning to tunnel. Knowing he had to somehow distract Helga, he thrust a hand into his pocket and pulled out the bow he had received from Phoebe. Using the last of his strength, he placed it above Helga's head. At least she looked like herself again.

_I like your bow because it's pink like your dress_

_I'm the boss around here, Helga G. Pataki!_

_Doi!_

_Nice talking to you, Helga._

_What do you want, Football Head?_

_This never would've happened to Olga._

_Baby sister…_

_Ohayo gozaimasu!_

_She wants to destroy me!_

_She sure looks purty._

_I love you Arnold and I want to marry you._

_What's she doing here?_

_What?_

_Out of my way, geek face!_

_To discuss these anti-social tendencies and examine possible strategies for improvement._

_Some things are best swept under the rug, Helga_

_Whatever you say, Helga._

_Oh, Arnold._

_Boys are rotten, made out of cotton; girls are sassy, made from molassy. . ._

_We can talk about Arnold. . ._

_Ice cream?_

_My deepest, darkest secret._

_Oh Arnold, can't you see that underneath this façade, I'm really just a shy girl too afraid to tell you how she really feels. . ._

-

-

-

Alright everyone, that's it for tonight, because I can't keep my eyes open I'm so tired. But I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. The story is near its conclusion now, and it might not be what you think. With a little luck, it may even reach its conclusion tomorrow night. I have it all set up in my mind, I just need to write it.

I'm glad that many of you seem to be enjoying this so much. It really makes me feel good to come home from a trying day at work and see replies from people who want to see more. It gives me the strength to shrug off those 8 and a half hours of sheer torture and work at this story. Thank you all, and keep reading!

As always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

09/22/04

4:39AM, 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	6. Dawn

The Sweet Hereafter: Dawn

-

-

-

Part XX: Look Closer

-

-

_"Be careful, lest in banishing your demons, you banish the best thing  
within you."_

--Nietzsche

-

-

-

It's morning. The start of a new day. Another terrible day. I can hear birds singing, faintly. What do they have to be so happy about? I don't want to wake up. It's nicer here. It's not quite reality. I don't want to face them right now, not like this. I'm comfortable. Too comfortable.

Okay, fine, maybe just a quick peek. Maybe for once in my life, I'll get lucky, and things will be different.

-

-

Helga slowly opened her eyes, blinking the sleep out of them. Everything looked brighter than usual. Waking up didn't seem miserable at all.

A quiet rustle convinced her she wasn't alone. Breathing deeply, she stretched a leg in either direction, not daring to look and risk confrontation with most private of dreams. She was only somewhat disappointed when she failed to make contact with anyone else. Very slowly, she pushed her torso upwards, deciding she might as well confront whoever was waiting for her. She stifled a curse when the redistribution of her weight was betrayed by the sound of her bed creaking. Her mysterious watcher immediately looked in her direction. "Arnold?"

"You're awake." Arnold said with a smile, hopping off the chair and walking to her bedside.

"This isn't my room!"

"You're in the hospital, Helga. You gave us all a scare."

"The. . .hospital? That's funny, I don't remember anything."

"The doctor said you most likely wouldn't. I'm just glad you're safe. You're lucky that Phoebe found you. We were able to carry you down from your roof and get a cab to take you to the hospital."

"What happened to me?"

"You slipped into a coma, Helga. The doctor said it wasn't too serious, that it was something you would come out of on your own."

"How long have I been out?"

"Three days."

"THREE DAYS? Criminey, what happened?"

"I don't know, Helga. I haven't seen you since school on Tuesday."

The memories of hitting her best friend, trying to strangle her football headed lug of a savior were still clear. "Then it was all a dream?"

"You were dreaming?" Arnold asked.

"Yeah. And Phoebe was there. And you, and. . ." Helga shook her head to clear the cobwebs. "Forget it. I'm not doing the 'Wizard of Oz' bit.

"Fair enough." Arnold chuckled.

"Do my parents know I'm here?"

"Yeah, your dad came down here when you were brought in. He asked Phoebe and me to check up on you before and after school. We're supposed to make sure the hospital calls home when you're awake."

"Gee, I'm glad he could fit it in." Helga spat. She became aware of the flimsy hospital gown she was wearing and sank more under the covers. A horrid realization came over her as she realized something was missing. _My locket! Where is it?! Oh no! What if he saw it? What if I've been exposed?! What if-_

"How do you feel?" Arnold asked.

"I just woke up from a coma! How do you think I feel, Football Head?!"

"Well, you seem pretty normal to me." Arnold sighed. "Except for the glucose bag."

Helga looked to her left, noticing for the first time the thin tube running from the hanging bag down into her arm. She scowled at it. "Hey, a girl's gotta eat, right?" Helga caught her reflection in a mirror attached the wall and grimaced. "My hair! It's all droopy!"

Arnold turned around and picked a small gym bag up off the floor. "Yeah, they gave you a bit of a makeover when they admitted you." Arnold smiled. "Don't worry. Phoebe brought this when we both came by after school yesterday. She packed it full of some stuff you might want with you." He opened the bag and after taking a moment to sift through the contents, zeroed in on what he was looking for. Arnold gently removed the article from the bag, turning back towards Helga and presenting her with it. "Here, maybe this will help."

"Perfect." Helga rolled her eyes. "I'm sure my hairpiece will do wonders for my condition." She cursed herself for putting down the sweet gesture. "Thanks, Arnold." She said, trying to keep sarcasm out of her voice this time as she took the proffered pink accessory.

"It's okay, I'm probably doing it just as much for me as for you. It'll be more comforting."

"Comforting?"

"I like your bow."

Helga held it in her hands now, twirling it over and over, the memory of a day perhaps not so long ago or lost after all. "It's pink." She said quietly.

"Like your dress."

"You. . .remember that?" Helga asked hesitantly, unsure what to feel.

"My first impression of you is better than any other you've given me over the years." Arnold shrugged.

"You always have to see the good in everything, don't you? Do you have any idea how annoying that can be?!"

"Not really. But I'll take your word for it."

"Shouldn't you be in school?" Helga asked.

"I'm allowed to miss first period to be here." Arnold explained. "Phoebe's allowed to miss last period, so she usually comes down in the afternoon."

"Who arranged that?" Helga asked.

"Dr. Bliss. She said it was important for you to have some familiarity whenever you wake up."

Helga scoffed. "Some psychiatrist. She has YOU come down here to welcome me back into the world of the living."

Arnold shrugged. "She must've had a reason. She requested us specifically."

Helga immediately decided a change of subject was in order. "So, what did I miss? Anything good?"

"Not much going on. Rhonda's throwing another party next week."

"Pfft, who cares about her lame-o parties."

"Yeah, well, to tell the truth, I'm probably going to make an excuse and stay home. I'd rather spend an evening eating ice cream and looking for patterns in the stars."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sometimes, at night, I just go up to the roof, look up at the stars, and see what's up there. It helps me clear my head."

"You can be so weird, Hair Boy."

"Anyway, I should probably get going. I have to catch my bus if I want to make it to school for second period."

"Great." Helga sulked. "Now what am I supposed to do all day?!"

"I don't know. I hate to break it to you, but daytime TV is really lousy."

"Gee, thanks Arnoldo. Can you at least hand me my bag? Maybe Phoebe packed something I can use to pass the time."

"Sure." Arnold picked the gym bag up and handed it to Helga. "Don't worry, it's already nine now. Phoebe should be here by 2 o'clock. I'll come back later this evening. It's Friday, so there's no school tomorrow."

"Whatever. See you later, Football Head."

"Yeah, later." _Same old Helga_. Arnold gripped his book bag and opened the door to step outside. He was about to step through when Helga's voice stopped him.

"Hey Arnold?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. Y'know, for being here and stuff."

"Don't mention it." Arnold smiled at her, then left.

As Helga watched his shadow pass in the hall outside and disappear, she collapsed backwards into the bed, sighing. "Oh, Arnold, my love! Most fair and noble is your visage. Here you sat each morning, watching over Sleeping Beauty and keeping the dragons at bay! Flash your smile, my handsome Prince, for one day, for the Princess has awakened, and now everything is going to be okay!"

Helga felt revitalized, and she hummed quietly to herself as she rummaged through the bag Arnold had left out for her. There wasn't much that proved useful. A dress for when she got out of here, a conversational Japanese handbook, some Pez, a doodle pad and pens, a gold locket, pajamas, toiletries. . ."A GOLD LOCKET!" Helga shrieked. Sure enough, it lay there in her hands, incriminating evidence. "Arnold. . .he was there when he and Phoebe brought me to the hospital! And he was just going through here a minute ago! What if he saw it?! _So what? _This is a nightmare! I've got to. . .I've got to. . .I've got to get more rest. . ." A moment later, Helga was fast asleep

-

-

Two hours later, Helga was awoken from her sleep at the sound of someone else entering her room. She opened her eyes to see what had to have been her nurse, followed by Dr. Bliss.

"I see you're finally awake." Her nice smiled, taking a chart from the foot of the bed and frowning at it. "I'm just here to check your vitals, Helga." The nurse quickly ran through her routine, checking temperature, blood pressure, and respiration. Satisfied that Helga was coming along nicely, she briefly showed Helga how to call if she needed anything, then left the girl in the hands of her psychiatrist.

"I'm glad to see you're back, Helga." Dr. Bliss smiled.

"Yeah, well, I decided I missed the place. You know me, I get homesick." Helga frowned.

"I'm sure." Dr. Bliss allowed the comment to pass. "How are you holding up?"

"Well, I'll probably deny this if you said it, but the reality definitely beats the dream. And stop trying to skirt the issue. You have Arnold here every morning. That's very unfair to him."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll do fine in his studies. Come one, Helga, you know the reason I have him here."

"Criminey, do we have to talk about this now?!"

"Yes, Helga, we do." Helga sighed and began at the beginning of her dream explaining everything that had happened in it, as well as a few days before her incident that she could remember. "There, you see, it's really quite simple. Based on what you're telling me, I think a part of you is trying to express how you feel, but at the same time, your fears are bubbling to the surface and making their presence known. Your best bet, Helga, is to channel. You need to start thinking about explaining to Arnold how you feel. Even a little."

"Can I tattoo 'Helga Loves Arnold' on his forehead while he's sleeping?" Helga asked, not being entirely facetious.

"No. That's the kind of behavior you want to avoid. Why don't you just try talking with him about it sometime?"

"Doi! Because I couldn't handle the rejection? Haven't we been through this before?"

"It's worse now, Helga. You need an outlet. And putting Arnold down isn't the answer. I don't think you should try and tell him everything, but you should just talk a bit about it."

"You must be the one dreaming now. I am so not ready."

"Okay then, Helga. Let's say you don't tell him anything. So what are you going to do? Let it fester until you're too late? Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life? People have to talk about their feelings, Helga. It's how we all get through life."

"Yeah? Well I'm doing just fine, Doc."

"Says the girl who just woke up from a coma and doesn't know why." Dr. Bliss smiled. "Helga, from what I'm hearing, this dream you experiences is just your subconscious trying to make itself known. There's no need to be scared of it. Just try talking to him normally instead of lashing out at him. You don't have to tell him your feelings just yet, but you have to do something or you're going to risk damage to your mental health."

"Okay, okay! Geez, it's like having a drill instructor for a shrink."

"It's called therapy, Helga." Dr. Bliss stifled a giggle.

"Okay, fine. I'll talk to him the next time he drops by. I won't even insult him. Satisfied?"

"I think that would be an excellent start." The psychiatrist smiled. "And I look forward to hearing about it later. We've decided to keep you here over the weekend, but if nothing abnormal surfaces, you'll be discharged on Sunday afternoon. Although I will want to see you everyday after school this coming week."

"Every day?!"

"It's a regular precaution. I want to help you so you don't face another relapse of this. Unless you like waking up in strange beds."

"Okay." Helga grumbled.

"Good. Now, it's almost time for lunch. Eat up, watch a little TV. We'll talk later."

"See ya." Helga mumbled as her psychiatrist left. "Five days in a row? Criminey! How long does it take?" Not that she didn't have bigger problems. Immediately after Dr. Bliss left, Helga snatched her locket off the table. "I still have to figure out if he saw this thing or not." She twirled it in her hands, much like she had played with her bow earlier that morning. Clutching her most prized possession to her chest, she curled into the fetal position. "C'mon, give me some kind of sign here. What am I supposed to do?"

-

-

-

I think that will do it for this one. Thanks again for reading everyone. This chapter was probably the most fun to write. I know the format was a bit different than the others, but I felt it was important to lay everything out here in one part.

Fear not, the story isn't quite finished yet. We're getting there, but there are still a few more things to tell (and a few more creative decisions for me to make). As always, your wonderful responses have been truly inspiring, and I hope you'll all remember the story as one of the good reads long after you've finished it.

Hope I didn't disappoint anyone by making the past few chapters a bit surreal, but I've had a purpose all along. I've been duly impressed with my ability to do an update for this story on a daily basis. That's unprecedented for me, but I've been beyond inspired, and I suspect I'll be looking back on this experience with fond memories.

Next up, expect a lot of healthy conversation, and a few unexpected twists before the end. I anticipate one or maybe two more chapters, but who knows? I intended to finish the story when I sat down tonight, and two pages into it, I realized there was still more that needed to be told!

As always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

09/23/04

4:15AM

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	7. In The Cards

The Sweet Hereafter: In The Cards

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-

-

Part XXI: All The Right Things

-

-

_"If I told you a secret  
You won't tell a soul  
Will you hold it and keep it alive  
Cause it's burning a hole  
And I can't get to sleep  
And I can't live alone in this lie_

_Well I stand at the crossroads  
Of highroads and lowroads  
And I got a feeling it's right  
If it's real what I'm feeling  
There's no makebelieving  
The sound of the wings of the flight of a dove_

_So take me don't leave me  
Take me don't leave me  
Baby, love will come through _

_It's just waiting for you_"

--Travis

"Love Will Come Through"

-

-

-

Helga had decided by her third bite that she hated hospital food. It made the stuff served up at P.S. 118 look like gourmet French cuisine. Helga was now thoroughly convinced that there was some kind of conspiracy regarding the food, it was designed to make you sick so you would have to stay longer and rack up a higher bill. She smirked as she thought of the impact to Big Bob's wallet. Maybe when he got the bill, he'd finally notice her.

Helga continued to pick at her food, eating it much more out of desperation than enjoyment. As soon as they let her out, she intended on making a straight line for the nearest restaurant. When she had finished eating all that she dared, Helga pushed the tray to her right, placing it on the table that now held her bag. Satisfied no one was looking; she took her locket out from under the sheets and traced the contours of the heart with her index finger. Sighing, she placed it in the bag and began groping around the sides of her bed, finally finding a remote for the TV; she turned it on a flipped through the channels. Arnold had been right; there wasn't much of anything on. A news program, the Home Shopping channel, lame game shows, and five different soap operas. Helga dropped the remote in disgust, preferring instead to look out the window. It was a nice view. She could tell she was on one of the higher floors, and the view that was provided showed the bustle of downtown, a well-kept park, and even part of the river. Not willing to risk dying of boredom, Helga slowly slipped her legs to her left, and planted her feet on the cold floor. Her toes curled in protest, but nevertheless, she kept her feet firmly rooted. Slowly, she lifted her torso off the bed, mindful of the glucose bag which now served as her leash. With slow, plodding steps, and gentle pulling of the stand, Helga managed to walk herself over to the window to get a better look at the world outside.

It was truly a beautiful September day. The sky was partly cloudy, and a gentle breeze was pulling at the trees in the park. Much too nice a day to waste in school. Even worse to waste it here. Helga briefly wondered if Mr. Simmons would allow his class to be turned loose outside today. But thoughts of school only seemed to leave her depressed. She hated being alone, because it meant she would think.

Turning away from the window, Helga walked back to her bed. After spending several days in it, she suddenly felt too lazy to do much walking. She caught another glimpse of herself in the mirror, the image getting larger as she closed in. Immediately, her right hand patted her head. "Oh yeah. My hair." She rolled her eyes at the girl staring back at her, hair cascading down the back of her head like a frizzled waterfall. She lightly pushed and pulled at her face a bit, briefly wondering if she should change her hairstyle before rejecting the idea. She was too accustomed to her pigtails; they ensured her hair stayed out of her way without having to cut it short. She had few regrets. Tall and thin, she idly wished she were a little prettier for a minute before scowling. "Oh stow that line of crap." Helga chastised herself. "I'm doing just fine." She pushed her glucose drip back to the side of the bed and sat. Reaching into her bag for her pink bow, Helga decided to amuse herself for a few minutes by redoing her hair.

-

-

It was an hour and a half later when Phoebe finally showed, looking almost wastefully cheerful at the news of her best friend being both alive and well. Helga had managed to count 647 cracks in the ceiling when her friend walked in. "Helga! Konichiwa! I'm so glad you're okay!"

"Yeah, I'm okay, Phoebe. A little shaken, but not stirred."

"What was it like, being in a coma?"

"What was it like? I don't know, I spent most of the time dreaming."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No way! If I could just forget everything about that dream, I'd be a happy woman. Anyway, forget all that. Tell me about school."

Phoebe went on to regale Helga about all the recent ongoings in the P.S. 118 school community. The aforementioned party at Rhonda's next week, Lila wowing the boys like a siren, Harold getting detention, and of course, the mesmerizing lesson plans Helga hadn't been able to partake in.

"Doesn't sound like I missed too much." Helga yawned.

"Gerald hit a home run at the last baseball game." Phoebe said quietly.

"So Tall Hair Boy can swing a bat, eh?" Helga rolled her eyes.

Phoebe ignored the comment. "Oh, and Patty asked Arnold and I how you were today. She said she was worried about you."

"Worried about me?" Helga's eyebrow furrowed.

"Well, Helga, they did say you were in a coma. I think she just wanted to know you were coming back."

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away." Helga said sarcastically. "So, you didn't bring Football Head with you. Is he waiting on Little Miss Perfect hand and foot?"

"He's in class." Phoebe shook her head.

"Oh, yeah, I think he mentioned that this morning. I have got to get out of here! It's so boring!" Helga pulled at her pigtails.

"Did they talk to you yet?"

"Dr. Bliss says they'll spring me on Sunday if I don't start foaming at the mouth or anything." Helga sighed. But that still leaves all of today and tomorrow." Helga sulked.

"Arnold says he's coming back tonight. Plus he and I arranged for a lot of us to come see you tomorrow if you're up to it." Phoebe tried to sound cheerful.

"You're not letting the place fall apart while I'm gone, right?" Helga asked.

"Of course not! Don't worry Helga, when you get to school on Monday, everything will be just like you left it."

"Well in that case, Monday's going to be a really busy day, so I'd better get some rest this weekend." Helga smiled. The laughter of the two best friends was interrupted by the timely arrival of Dr. Bliss.

"Afternoon, Helga. Hello, Phoebe."

"You just can't get enough of me, can you?" Helga rolled her eyes as Phoebe waved her greeting.

"Actually this is a social call." Dr. Bliss smiled. "Not a professional one."

"What did you have in mind?" Helga asked.

"Oh, I just brought a friend of mine in, and I thought you girls might like to join us for a friendly game of poker." Dr. Bliss smiled. Arnold stepped out from behind her.

Ah, now things made perfect sense. Helga didn't buy into her psychiatrist's "social call" bit for an instant, but on the other hand, this could be an excellent chance to make a quick buck. "Sure." Helga grinned widely. "Get your wallet out, Doc."

-

-

The next few hours passed rather quickly, Arnold quickly finding himself broke with three girls playing against him. Still, he was content to watch the three ladies at work—Dr. Bliss relying on cunning and the careful study of her opponents, Phoebe crunching numbers, deciding when to hold and when to fold, and Helga herself playing mainly on her own gut instincts and refusal to back down. She lost to Dr. Bliss in the end, and Helga's only real regret was that her style of play probably revealed tons more about herself to the shrink than anything they had discussed in one of their sessions.

The doctor took some pity on the small boy who had ended up spending the lion's share of the time watching the girls play, and gave him his money back. "No hard feelings, right?" She smiled.

"Of course not." Arnold smiled back.

"This was great, Dr. Bliss!" Phoebe said excitedly. "I had a wonderful time! But I have to get home for dinner."

"So soon, Feeb?" Helga asked.

"Sorry, but I have to leave now to get home by six." Phoebe was disappointed in having to leave.

"Come back tomorrow, okay?"

"I will. Goodbye! Thanks, Dr. Bliss! See you later, Arnold."

"Bye Phoebe." Arnold waved as the young Heyerdahl walked out the door.

"Well, that was fun." Dr. Bliss laughed. "It's been a long time since I had such a challenging game."

"I wasn't in top form." Helga looked her in the eye.

"Perhaps we'll have a rematch some other time, then."

"Sure, why not." Helga agreed.

"That sounds nice. Arnold, I just need to talk to Helga, doctor to patient, for a minute. Do you think you could go to the nurse's station and get us something to drink? We'll only be a minute."

"Sure." Arnold smiled. "I'll be back in a few."

Arnold stepped out of the room and made his way for assistance while Helga got resituated in her bed, sitting on the remote control under her as she smoothed the sheets. "Stupid piece of junk!" Helga tossed it to the side as she finished and made herself comfortable.

"Helga, you have to deal with him as an equal." Dr. Bliss explained.

"What do you want from me?! I haven't insulted him once since he got here!" Helga protested.

"Quite true. You've ignored him!"

"Yeah, so, what's wrong with that? It's a lot simpler than. . .you know, getting all complicated."

"Helga, I told you. You don't have to reveal your feelings if you're not ready. But you need to deal with Arnold on a healthier level. You should talk to him, about anything. It will help you grow. Then someday, when you are ready to tell him, it won't seem so impossible."

"What in the world am I supposed to talk to Arnold about?!" Helga groaned. "We don't have anything in common! We live in the same neighborhood and go to the same school, but what do we have beyond that?" Helga slammed back into her bed. "Ow!" The hand control dug into her, and she threw it aside, the device ricocheting off the side of the bed and coming to a stop next to her.

"I think you should talk to him about this summer." Dr. Bliss smiled. "You recently risked a lot to help Arnold and his friend stop a developer from bulldozing this area of the city. As I understand it, there was some risk on your part. There's your common ground."

"Most of that. . .I don't want to talk about." Helga sighed. "Sometimes. . .most times. . .I really don't understand the things I do in the name of Arnold. From both ways, I mean. The bullying and the nice stuff."

"Your reactions are normal, Helga. You just want him to pay attention to you."

"Is that wrong?" Helga asked.

"No. But you either need to discipline yourself to form a healthier relationship with that boy, or you need to accept that things will never change, and let these feelings go. Otherwise you're just going to continue a cycle that is going to find you in a very uncomfortable place, Helga. Especially as you get older."

"Sure, Doc, I'll just let the feelings go. Look, we've talked tons of times! You know what it's like for me out there! I've been waiting my whole long, lonely life for someone to actually care about me. Arnold was the first person to show any actual concern. And if it makes you feel any better you're only the third, maybe fourth." Helga sulked.

"Alright, Helga. Then what makes him so different? Why are you willing to expose yourself to me or Phoebe but not him?"

"Because, I. . .if I tell him, then what happens to me? Everything changes."

"Only the things you want to change, Helga."

"No! Don't you get it?! My whole image would change if everyone else realized my secret. My whole life could be turned upside down!"

"Is that what you're afraid of?"

"Yes, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No, Helga. It's what you needed to hear. Breathe. I've never pictured you as someone overly concerned by other people's opinions. But these concerns are things that people feel everyday. You're not alone. All this means is that you want to be safe, that you fear change. Most people don't like change, Helga. But it's healthy. What you have to accept is the possibility that taking the risk, that putting yourself out there can actually make your life more rewarding. If you do nothing, yes, you'll be safe, but your life will always be as it is now. So unless you can look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you're happy with your life, then you have some tough decisions to make."

"The way you put it, it isn't so tough at all." Helga moped, tugging on her left pigtail.

"Deciding is the easy part. Acting is an entirely different story."

Helga flopped back against her pillow. "Do you have any idea how stressful being in love with Arnold is?" She asked. "I've certainly put a lot more into this relationship than I've gotten out of it." Helga and Dr. Bliss stared at each other for a moment before both burst out laughing. "Okay, okay. I'll do something about it."

"Good. Just try to remember, Helga. The first step is the hardest, and you have to take that on your own. But from my own observances of Arnold, I'm sure he'll be willing to help."

"Don't be so sure." Helga laughed nervously. "The last time I told him how I really feel about him, he looked like a boy sentenced to a year's worth of detentions."

"So you actually did tell him."

"Yeah. Now that I think about it, I guess I came on a little too strong."

"It's better to sip than to guzzle." Dr. Bliss offered.

"Yeah, I'll try to remember that next time."

-

-

Arnold was waiting patiently at the nurse's station. In front of him was a tray with three cups of water, but the Head Nurse had insisted he wait for the next pot of coffee to come up, as Dr. Bliss would be looking for a cup. The electric kettle had long since clicked off, but no one was paying it any attention. Every nurse manning the station was instead trying to listen to the gossip coming in over a small speaker.

_"I think you should talk to him about this summer. You recently risked a lot to help Arnold and his friend stop a developer from bulldozing this area of the city. As I understand it, there was some risk on your part. There's your common ground."_

_"Most of that. . .I don't want to talk about "Sometimes. . .most times. . .I really don't understand the things I do in the name of Arnold. From both ways, I mean. The bullying and the nice stuff."_

_"Your reactions are normal, Helga. You just want him to pay attention to you."_

_"Is that wrong?"_

_"No. But you either need to discipline yourself to form a healthier relationship with that boy, or you need to accept that things will never change, and let these feelings go. Otherwise you're just going to continue a cycle that is going to find you in a very uncomfortable place, Helga. Especially as you get older."_

"Excuse me, could I get that coffee please?" Arnold asked, not wanting to interrupt but also growing impatient. Besides, it wasn't nice to eavesdrop on someone's private conversation.

The large, imposing figure of the head nurse shot him a look to keep quiet before she turned to one of her subordinates. "Girl, could be some juicy stuff she whispered. Turn it up."

One of the interns carefully reached towards the controls and boosted the gain, being careful not to get too close to the microphone and make the person on the other end realize they had inadvertently called the nurse station.

"This sounds like such a good story!" One of the women quipped excitedly.

"Shhh! You're gonna give us away! And we're missing the best parts!"

_"--nold was the first person to show any actual concern. And if it makes you feel any better you're only the third, maybe fourth." _

_"Alright, Helga. Then what makes him so different? Why are you willing to expose yourself to me or Phoebe but not him?"_

_"Because, I. . .if I tell him, then what happens to me? Everything changes."_

_"Only the things you want to change, Helga."_

_"No! Don't you get it?! My whole image would change if everyone else realized my secret. My whole life could be turned upside down!"_

_"Is that what you're afraid of?"_

_"Yes, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?"_

_"No, Helga. It's what you needed to hear. Breathe. I've never pictured you as someone overly concerned by other people's opinions. But these concerns are things that people feel everyday. You're not alone. All this means is that you want to be safe, that you fear change. Most people don't like change, Helga. But it's healthy. What you have to accept is the possibility that taking the risk, that putting yourself out there can actually make your life more rewarding. If you do nothing, yes, you'll be safe, but your life will always be as it is now. So unless you can look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you're happy with your life, then you have some tough decisions to make."_

_"The way you put it, it isn't so tough at all." _

_"Deciding is the easy part. Acting is an entirely different story."_

_"Do you have any idea how stressful being in love with Arnold is? I've certainly put a lot more into this relationship than I've gotten out of it." _

Arnold's ears pricked up at the unmistakable voice. "Helga?" Arnold asked himself quietly. "I never knew her life was like that." _You didn't know, or you ignored it?_ Arnold felt a little dazed, but not completely lost. He really needed to have a long talk with the girl. Either that, or avoid any and all future encounters with her. "Helga?" Arnold asked in a much louder tone this time, drawing the attention of all the nurses.

-

-

"Oh, what do you want, Football Head?" The girl in Room 1179 said in frustration. "Wait a minute, I, you. . .how can you hear me?!" Helga cried, sweating profusely.

_"Uh-oh, it's on now! Battle stations girls!"_ The Head Nurse ordered, and all the nurses in the area scattered, heading into different rooms, moving for the service elevator, or typing paperwork like they'd never typed before.

Arnold hesitated to answer. _"Um, I. . ."_

"Helga, the call button." Dr. Bliss advised her.

"What? Where is it?" Helga groped frantically for the device, tearing around in her bed to find it. The red light seemed to glare at her mockingly." This stupid piece of--"

Dr. Bliss severed the connection before Helga's tirade could continue. "On the other hand, sometimes fate has ways of doing our work for us."

"This is not happening! This can't be happening to me!"

"Stop!" Dr. Bliss insisted, forcing the girl to focus on something else before she worked herself into a total tizzy. "Helga, relax. Remember, no matter what he heard. . .it isn't anything new, right? This is your chance to make some changes."

"What if I'm not ready?"

"If you don't at least try, Helga, how will you ever be ready. No matter what happens, remember that at least now, you won't wonder what might have been."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one that has to explain yourself to him."

"Arnold doesn't seem like the kind of person who passes judgment on others."

"No, but--"

"Don't tell me. Tell him. Anyway, I think I should be going. I'm sure there's a lot of stuff you two need to go over."

"You sure you don't want to stick around for moral support?" Helga pleaded.

"We'll have plenty of time to discuss it later, Helga." Dr. Bliss smiled as she made a quick exit before her patient made another excuse to keep her. She passed by Arnold, carrying the tray full of drinks and looking very sheepish. Behind him, several nurses were unsuccessfully trying to appear busy and innocent.

She carefully took the mug of coffee and a cup from the boy, patting him on the shoulder. "Talk to her, Arnold. She may act like she hates you for it, but--"

"I'll take care of her." Arnold nodded, much more frightened about Helga trying to "take care of him" if he risked going back inside her room.

-

-

-

Wow, this was a pretty long chapter, and it sure took me hours to write. I'm sorry about you folks having to wait an extra day this time. Writing a chapter every day this past week really had me burning the candle at both ends. So much so that today, on my day off, I slept until 5 in the afternoon.

Anyway, back to business as sort of usual (expect frequent updates. Possibly another one tomorrow, I don't know). This chapter really got away from me, so there may be one chapter more than I anticipated. I'm not entirely sure I can fit everything else I want to do into one chapter (and the funny thing is, there isn't that much left).

Once again, I'm very grateful for the continuous responses to my story, and I hope that in the end you'll still feel as good about it as you did in the beginning. Throughout writing this story, I've had some great experiences and met some wonderful people who truly give me every reason to work harder and harder. Those who know me well know that I never update a story this quickly, I think it's because I feel that I can't possibly make you people wait a second longer than necessary for each installment, and I promise I won't.

Well, the latest one is now online and ready for you to quote and disseminate. Enjoy it, share it, tell me what you think about it! Because the fic you review may be my own!

As always, please send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

09/25/04

2:07AM, EST

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	8. The Long Night

The Sweet Hereafter: The Long Night

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Part XXII: It's All In Your Head

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_"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."_

--Ghandi

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-

-

I have no mouth, and I must scream. There's no other way to describe it. You're just standing there, looking up at me with those mesmerizing eyes, and I'm laid bare for all to see. Despite all my own private hopes and fantasies, I didn't want it to be like this. I don't know what I expected. You're looking at me as if for the first time, and now you can see that I'm wretched, pitiful, poor, blind, and naked. What damage have I done by keeping things hidden all this time?

I have trouble looking at you. Can you tell? All I want to do is curl up into a ball until I disappear. I'm afraid of what might happen next. Now that this is hanging out there, I realize something huge has been building between the two of us. Something beyond conflict or romance or. . .anything you can put words to. I think after all the things I've done to you over they years, there's just a connection between us. How am I supposed to face you? Face anyone? Don't you know how much I hate myself, how much I hate my life?

Well say something! Tell me you hate me and never want to see me again, but please just stop staring. I can't take it when you look at me like this. You have to feel something. Tell me! Because I'm out of things to do. I'm just. . .I'm so tired, Arnold. I'm tired of living these lies. I'm tired of my parents. I'm tired of being a bully. I'm tired of being kind. And if I don't get a change, I'm going to go numb. You want to help someone, then help me! Save me from myself! Take me, or help me stop loving you.

-

-

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Part XXIII: Testimony

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_"No one can go back and make a brand new start._

_Anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending."_

--Tom Brummet

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-

-

"So. . ." Arnold began, his eyes half-lidded and at a loss for words.

"Don't." Helga said, no longer meeting his gaze. "Just . .don't."

"Helga, I'm sorry." Arnold said softly. "This is all my fault, for not discussing this with you weeks ago."

"I don't want your pity right now Arnold. I don't even know what's going on."

"What?" Arnold was very confused.

"I was telling Dr. Bliss all sorts of crazy stuff!" Helga exclaimed. "I mean, have you seen all the medications they have me on? I'm seeing streaks here!"

"Those are vitamins, Helga."

"Just let it go, all right?"

"No." Arnold said firmly.

"I said to let it go, okay? Just leave me alone, Hair Boy! I don't need this right now! Or haven't you noticed that not even one of my parents has come down to check on me since I woke up?"

"Neither of them?" Arnold asked.

"No. You and Phoebe are the only two people who came to see me. I didn't even get so much as a phone call from anyone else!"

"I'm. . .sorry, Helga."

"Don't be!" She spat. "It's not like I don't know that no one cares. For once I was holding out a little hope that my own parents might show some concern. Pfft, how stupid was that, huh? They've never cared about me before, I don't know why I was thinking that this time might be any different. You know, Arnold, I really envy you sometimes. At least you get raised by your grandparents. From where I'm sitting, not knowing your parents is a blessing, not a curse."

"C'mon, Helga, you shouldn't say those things. Even if they do treat you badly, they're still your parents."

"They brought me into this world, Arnold." Helga nodded. "Too bad they never had any intentions of following through afterwards. They see me as a disappointment and an inconvenience. Believe me, one of the things I take great pleasure in is doing things to stymie Bob."

"I'm sorry. I. . .don't really know much about my parents. Only that they went to help some people, and they never came back."

Helga moaned lightly at the prospect of getting into this kind of contest with the boy. "That must bite." She said softly.

"Yeah." Arnold agreed. They both looked at each other, not sure what to say.

"So, you still want to compare screwed up families?" Helga laughed very lightly, knowing it wasn't a funny subject but unsure of what else there was to say.

"There's a lot about you I don't know." Arnold said guiltily.

"Doi!" Helga shot back. "What you don't know about me, I could just about fill the Grand Canyon with, Football Head."

Arnold shook his head. "I don't want to fight with you Helga."

"We never do anything else!" Helga spat. "It's what we're good at!"

"Why do you want it to be that way? Why can't we just talk like two regular people?"

"Because I don't know what to say to you, all right? I never know what to say to you. Sometimes you make me so angry, I just want to scream!"

"Good, at least we're getting somewhere. Why do I annoy you?"

"Because you always. . ."

"I always what?"

"It's like no matter what I see happen to you, you always do the right thing. You're always concerned about someone else. It's like anything I've ever done in my life pales in comparison to the way you easily walk through life! I already feel inadequate enough at home."

"Okay." Arnold nodded. "Then what about. . .what you said before."

"Before?"

"A couple of weeks ago, nasty night, wind. Balcony of FTI."

"What, you've never been caught up in the moment before?! I told you, it didn't mean anything." Helga explained.

"I was wrong for not taking the time to talk about it then, but I was distracted." Arnold ignored her denial. "We should talk about it now."

"No, we shouldn't." Helga raised her voice. "Look, do you honestly want to get into this?"

"Considering everything that happened? That night and this week? Yeah."

"Well I wouldn't. I know a hopeless cause where I see one."

"Hopeless romantics are only hopeless in the eyes of those that don't believe in romance." Arnold said, sitting down.

"What?"

"Something I read once."

"And you believe in romance?"

"Sure, why not? I mean, it doesn't make any sense, that's how you know it's real."

"Wouldn't you rather be trying to wow Little Miss Perfect?" Helga said, refusing to believe anything good could come for her now.

"Her name is Lila." Arnold said, his eyes giving Helga a look that clearly asked her not to refer to the girl like that. "And no, I wouldn't. There's too much I don't know about you. I want to know more."

"You, want to know more about me?" Helga felt a bit shocked.

"Look, I can't forget those things you said that night. Before then, I don't know if I could even have pictured you having. . .those kinds of feelings for anyone, least of all me. And I feel like I need to know everything I can about you now. Because no one has ever said those kind of. . .that was deep stuff, Helga."

"Yeah, well. . .I've had a lot of time to perfect it."

"So tell me about who you are." Arnold insisted. "Tell me about the girl who's always ready with an insult and a scowl. About the girl who I haven't seen give a genuine smile since longer than I can remember."

"You want to know about me? Fine. Give me one of those cups of water." Arnold nodded and walked to Helga's bedside with one of the two cups he had brought into the room. Helga snatched it and took a deep sip. "This might take awhile."

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As it turned out, it took nearly two hours for Helga to make a dent in her story. It was slow going at first. Superficial, unimportant things. But once she got going, Helga was surprised at how easy it was to talk about herself. Finally, someone was willing to just shut up and listen to her life and her take on the world. Even so, she remained careful not to talk about experiences or feelings regarding the boy sitting across from her.

Arnold was fairly shocked to learn how deep her stories ran, things about her family, things at school he had never been aware of, and some of the things she and Phoebe had been through together. "Your sister sounds really. . .amazing." Arnold said as Helga paused for another drink.

With extreme effort, Helga somehow managed to keep herself from lunging at the boy and cramming her glucose bag down his throat. Her eyebrow knotted in frustration and she shattered the plastic cup she was holding.

"Um, I can understand why you would have some issues with her, though." Arnold quickly backpedaled. "It's really unfair of your parents to favor her so blatantly over you."

Helga sighed. "I'd like to say that it's something I've come to accept, but I don't know if I ever will. I guess that's pretty weak of me."

"You're not weak, Helga."

"Whatever you say, Arnold." It was definitely a mocking comment, but considering how many times he had told her the same, Arnold found it mildly endearing. "Look, maybe you should go."

"Why? I don't have anywhere else to be." Arnold shrugged.

"Don't you know enough about me already?"

"I just wanted to get the whole story. You seem to know a lot about me, and before tonight I never really knew who you were."

"Well, now you know." Helga felt rather pleased with herself, having been able to talk to her love without saying anything incriminating or resorting to insults. "Does that make you feel better?"

"I'm still trying to piece some of it together. I still remember you back when we were really little. The first time I saw you, you were covered in mud."

"I was having a bad day." Helga said quietly, not looking at him.

"You were a lot different then, until you changed."

"I'm not ashamed of who I am, Arnold."

"I didn't say you should be. Everyone does things they aren't proud of, or that they don't understand, or that they wish they could change. Even I have a few skeletons in my closet I don't like to talk about."

"You?"

"Well, we all have those experiences in life we take to our graves. Most of the stories we choose never to repeat to anyone happen in our childhood."

"Where do you get this stuff?"

Arnold shrugged. "Anyway, Helga, you shouldn't be ashamed of who you are."

"Good, because I'm not!"

"But considering everything you've told me, there's something I don't understand."

"I promised you a story." Helga grinned. "Explanations cost extra."

Arnold ignored her. "I can understand your personality, why you choose to be an aggressor. You were taught at an early age that the only way anyone will pay attention to you is if you force them to."

"Yeah, that's right."

"I paid attention to you."

"That was a long time ago, Football Head! I told you, I was having a bad day."

"And what about now?"

"I'm having a bad life."

"Helga, you have to be willing to dig deeper. You don't have to prove to me that you're some kind of bully, or even apologize for it. None of that matters."

"So what does?"

"Somewhere inside you, there's something else. Something that has never been properly nurtured or cared for, a better example of whatever it is that really lies behind your eyes."

"Is that what you really think?" Helga asked. "This whole 'more than meets the eye' routine? I am what my life has made me."

"I don't believe that, Helga. You may have adapted, but that's not really who you are."

Helga's heart thudded in her chest. _How could he possibly see that inside me? _"Wish I could tell you who I really am, Arnold. But I'm still figuring that out."__

"I think you do know who you are, Helga. Or at least who you want to be. You should listen to yourself more often. That's all I can really tell you right now."

"You're leaving." Helga said, a statement rather than a question.

Arnold nodded. "I. . .have some stuff to figure out myself. This is a lot to think about."

"It's in your eyes, Arnold. You can't hide it from me. You're going to shoot me down. Sad story or not, I'm nothing like Little Miss. . .like Lila."

"I haven't decided anything yet."

"It doesn't matter." Helga looked away. "You have no reason to look my way. And even as I sit here, cold and exposed, I know what my chances are. I'm okay with that." _What am I saying?! You're blowing it, Helga old girl!_

"Even so, I. . .want to decide how I feel. About a lot of the things you've told me. And about myself. And I still want to know who you are."

_I'm the girl that loves you, you Football headed buffoon! _Helga slowly climbed out of her bed. Standing on her feet, she stretched, slid into a pair of slippers, and began a slow walk, pulling her bag and its stand with her. "I'm. . .going for a walk, Arnold. I'll see you later."

"Look, Helga, I just don't want to say something to you I'll regret." Arnold explained.

"Funny, and here all I want is to feel something."

"I'm not in love with Lila." Arnold announced.

Helga stopped her movement, intrigued. "I could've told you that."

"What?"

"When you do love someone, you don't have to think about it. You just. . .you know, y'know?"

"And you're in love with me." Arnold followed.

Helga only looked at him. "I'm not going to say it, Football Head, you can try all you like."

"And I'm. . .we're connected, Helga. That I'm certain of. But I don't know what there is between you and me yet.

_Hope and fear._ Helga sighed. "It's not fair that you know how I feel. Didn't you grandparents teach you not to play with a girl's emotions?" Helga asked, growing frustrated but refusing to feel sorry for herself. She took a few steps in a circle to calm herself down. "Where are you going when you leave here?"

"Home, I guess."

"It must be nice to have a home."

"I like it." Arnold admitted. "But I've seen where you live, it's huge."

"Maybe so, but it's not my home. I don't suppose it ever will be. It's just a place for me to put my crap. That's what you don't get. As frustrating as you're making this conversation, I am home, right now. The only people who really care whether I'm alive or not are in this building. You want to know me better? Fine, here's one more story for you. Once upon a time there was a little girl named Helga whose family forgot about her and who never had any friends of her own. Then one day one person in this world was kind to her, and actually gave her hope that there was some good in this world. Except a lifetime of neglect and fear caused her to betray those feelings in a single act of rage that have made her who she is today. That's who Helga Pataki is, Arnoldo. But you were right about one thing. She is more than her life has made her. And you'll never know or understand that person. No one does. No one will. Now get out of my way."

"Helga, stop! Just wait up a second."

"Why should I?"

"Because I do want to know who you are."

Helga scowled at the boy, feeling more hurt and angry than she had in some time. "Criminey, you annoy me so much sometimes. You want to know who I am, Hair Boy? Fine!" Helga picked her gym bag off of a chair and dropped it over his head, Arnold just barely managed to catch it. "If you want to know who I am, the answers are all in here. Take it!"

"Take it home?"

"Yes! Take it home! Take it to the park! Take it to the café!. But take it and go!"

"I'll come back tomorrow, Helga." Arnold sighed, hefting the bag and heading for the door.

"I'm not going anywhere." She rolled her eyes at him as he left. How she longed for something to crush. Helga burst out into the hallway, stamping towards the Nurse's Station. "Criminey, what's it take to get a little coffee around here?!" Helga yelled as Arnold quickly disappeared around a corner.

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Ten minutes later, Helga was walking down the long hallway with a cup of decaf tea in her hand (the best the nurses would allow her). "Why did I do that?" she asked herself.

"I just wanted him to accept me for who I am. Oh Arnold, can't I just do one thing right?" She thought long and hard about this night. It certainly wasn't anything like she expected. One more reality that couldn't live up to her fantasies.

"I gave him my bag! My locket! My sketch pad! My. . ."the possibility of Arnold going through her toiletries and underwear suddenly seemed infinitely more embarrassing than any of her passion for the boy being exposed. As Helga reached the end of the corridor, pressing her nose against the cool glass and gazing out at the night sky, she noticed her reflection had turned a bright shade of crimson. The very idea, it was scandalous! Yet somehow, the image was also comforting; she found herself feeling very human And then, Helga did something she hadn't done in a very long time. She laughed. Not mockingly. Not derisively. But something pure and whole that came from deep within. Perhaps everything would be all right after all. And as a smile crept across her face that would not fade, Helga Pataki stared out the window and dared to hope.

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What you have just read was nothing short of exhausting for me to write. It is the culmination of over six hours of work, of me sweating over nearly every word, countless rewriting, a very large can of Arizona Iced Tea, and two bottles of Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade. Some twenty-somethings go out to parties on Saturday nights. This one spent the entire thing slaving over a Hey Arnold fanfic. That's dedication!

I've never had to work so hard at one scene before. And even after I've let a few of you see it, I'm still terrified to actually put this thing up. And the story isn't even over yet! But I've come to feel over all these hours that this is the most fragile part of my story, and that every single line of dialogue was another opportunity for me to blow it. But now it's finally finished, and it's time for me to see if it flies on its own or not.

Those of you who write fanfics of your own probably have an idea of how difficult it can be to get things to come out just write. I hope and I pray that I've made this chapter worthy. I've got a great idea to kick off the next one that I'm already going into, and I think you're all going to love that. I had originally intended on forging ahead and including it with this chapter, but then I realized that I'd have no good start for down the road, and also that I'd have to put this one off even longer.

Each and every single one of you have been so kind to my little story. And those of you that take the time to not only read this stuff, but to give me your feedback as well. . .that's what I rush home from work every night to see. I get home a midnight, fire up my computer, hope against hope that the last chapter was a success, and then I find the strength to stay up until half an hour after the sun starts shining, slaving away at The Sweet Hereafter and causing all my online friends to worry that something's happened to me and that they'll never see me again. Or worse yet, that I'll stop writing Awakening (sorry guys, the plugs never stop)!

And as I sit here finishing up these notes, something occurs to me. I've been watching the show for exactly two weeks now. Since that time, not only have I managed to catch a plethora of high quality episodes, but I've also written 23,220 words and racked up what I feel is a quite respectable amount of favorable reviews. And this is what fanfiction is all about. It's being made to feel something. It's passing this story along to you. You guys and girls are what make this story possible. You're feeling something in the words I string together creates this story, binds it, and gives it purpose. Thank you, and if it isn't too much trouble, keep hanging in to the end.

Whew, long notes this time. The old windbag isn't done yet! To satisfy the curiosities of my friends both old and new…

No, "The Sweet Hereafter" will NOT be my only work of HA fanfiction. I intend to finish the story this week. My next HA project will be down the road. I would expect it to be half as long as this one (when it's finished). It's either going to be a Christmas story or a Valentine's story, but I'm not a liberty to say because I just don't know yet. Whatever I do. I expect to write it in its entirety in a short span, much as I'm doing with "Hereafter."

"Awakening: Third Stage" will be back in full-time production following the completion of "The Sweet Hereafter." It will continue to be my flagship title until the time of its completion. If you don't read my "Awakening" series, you'll never know what you're missing. It's true!

And finally, a little chronological clarification on "The Sweet Hereafter," in case anyone is confused. The story takes place AFTER the movie, but BEFORE "The Journal." Hence when Arnold refers to his parents in this chapter, he only knows they're gone somewhere.

There, I think that about covers it. As always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

09/27/04

2:24AM, EST

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	9. The Healing Process

The Sweet Hereafter: The Healing Process

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Part XXIV: Locked Away

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_"Arnold my soul, you are always in my heart."_

_Love,_

_Helga G. Pataki"_

--Inscription fabled to be engraved within the locket of a fourth grader from P.S. 118

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Arnold frowned at the pile of things laid out before him on the kitchen table. It was late, past ten o'clock when he had returned home. Deciding not to have a big meal, Arnold had put some bread into the toaster and was now trying to unlock the mysteries of the girl he had left behind. He had folded the pair of pink pajamas up and placed them at the bottom of the pile. There were a few more interesting articles that he had rapidly put back into the bag. Besides, he didn't really see how he could learn more about Helga by playing with her socks and. . . .other things. He also saw little need to delve into her bag of toiletries. While it was true that a person's toothbrush could be most revealing, Arnold wasn't about to brush his teeth with Helga's toothbrush. That image felt far too reminiscent of a Hannibal Lecter movie.

The sketchbook looked the most promising, filled with various image and the occasional rhyming couplet. Arnold had given up on trying to count the number of times his image was inside it, but the pad was clearly more than a tribute to himself. Words flowed through the book in a disorganized matter. Occasionally there would be lines that went together, as though part of a larger poem. But mostly, they were individual words, things that hinted at Helga's mental state as she was working on each page. The emotions conveyed ran a large scope, and as Arnold studied the book, he felt like he was finally beginning to understand what kind of person Helga was.

The heart shaped piece of jewelry frightened him a bit. He had seen it before, but now that he knew who its owner was. . .it just seemed a bit unreal. Like last time, it still wouldn't open. Arnold knew there had to be some kind of catch, but decided that the less he messed with the locket, the better. Something inside of it seemed to speak to him, and he knew that if he opened it, he wouldn't be able to unsee whatever lay waiting inside.

There was little else of particular use. Pencils and pens, a small tube of lipstick, which Arnold couldn't really remember the girl ever using, and a key, which presumably opened the door to her home.

"Not much to go on." Arnold sighed. "I can't help but feel I'm missing something here."

"Missing what, Short Man?" Phil asked as he wandered into the kitchen, just in time for the toast to pop up.

"Nothing, Grandpa." Arnold sighed, getting up to tend to his dinner. Placing the toast onto a plate, he retrieved a jar of jelly from the fridge, sat down at the table, and began to spread the topping.

"Sure is a lot of stuff you have here, Arnold. Say, I didn't know you were in the market for pajamas? Not exactly a great color, though--"

"They're not mine, Grandpa." Arnold shook his head. "I brought them home from the hospital. Helga wanted me to take all this stuff with me. She said all the answers I'm looking for are in here. But I don't really get--"

"Hey! You found my locket!" Phil exclaimed with joy, snatching the golden treasure up before his grandson could stop him.

"Grandpa, it's not yours, it belongs to. . .someone else."

"Oh yeah? Well I say finders, keepers!"

"Grandpa. . ." Arnold said with the frustration of a boy who didn't feel much like reasoning with his elder.

"All right then, Arnold." Phil reluctantly placed the trinket back on the table. "What's going on?"

"I was at the hospital, and Helga told me to take her bag home if I wanted to understand her better."

"Is that your little friend with the brown, braided hair and the uncannily sweet disposition? Don't see much of her around."

"No, Grandpa. Helga's quite the opposite."

"Oh!" Phil exclaimed. "You mean the girl with the pink bow and the one eyebrow."

"Yeah."

"Oh, that's right, you like a challenge." Phil mumbled.

"What?" Arnold asked, confused.

"Nothing. So, all this stuff is hers? Hoo boy. Girl caries your picture around with her, Short Man. You know that's trouble. She's probably been stalking you for a long time, waiting to strike like one of the critters you usually see on those nature shows."

The imagery hit Arnold a little close to home. Helga did often behave like a wild animal, proud and fierce and dangerous when cornered. In her current state, she was vulnerable, and Arnold feared that if he said the wrong thing, he might cause her to lash out again, destroying any progress they had made. He had seen, however briefly, a plethora of different sides to the girl. After the night's conversation, Arnold felt as though he and Helga were experiencing some kind of renaissance. As she had reluctantly pointed out, there was always more to her than met the eye. They weren't so different, deep down, he suspected. But the idea of the two of them having much in common, it might come to frighten her. But whatever the case, Arnold already knew that he liked Helga, at least the version who would talk to him like a person instead of hunting him for sport.

"She's not so bad," Arnold smiled, explaining things to Phil. "if she lets you dig a little deeper. But I still don't fully understand her."

"That's how you know she's a woman!" Phil laughed. "Why if I had a wooden nickel for every time Pookie's made me think she's crazy, I'd-"

"It's okay, Grandpa. I guess the truth is, the only person who can truly understand who you are is yourself."

"Maybe you're right about that, Arnold. But if you want to try and figure that girl out, I think you should try and get inside your little problem."

Arnold's eyes scanned the items in front of him, and suddenly a light bulb began to glow warmly in the halls of his oblong head. "Yeah, Grandpa, maybe I will!" Arnold devoured his toast quickly before going up to his room, an idea coming to mind.

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Helga trained her taste buds to ignore the concoction that Hillwood Hospital had the audacity to call scrambled eggs. Breakfast wasn't a meal that Helga frequently partook in anyway. Still, she ingested the food, recognizing the importance of eating. She had to keep her strength up if she wanted to get out of here. The idea of spending another week in this place with nothing to amuse her but daytime television and short visits from Phoebe and Football Head was nearly enough to drive her into a coma all over again.

Helga has just pushed her plate away and had placed on naked foot on the cold floor when the phone began to ring. She immediately glowered at the interruption. "Criminey, who could be—OWWW!" She yelped in pain as her toes smashed into the side of the bed in her effort to reach the phone. Helga seethed as she lunged for the receiver, seizing it in her right hand while massaging her throbbing digits with her left. "This had better be good!"

"Helga?" A quiet voice on the other end of the line asked.

"Oh. Hey Feebs." Helga said, her anger evaporating almost instantly.

"Ohayo gozaimasu."

"Thanks. Um, dozo." Helga wracked her brain for the appropriate response.

"Domo." Phoebe corrected, sounding a little sheepish.

"Whatever. What's up?"

"How are you?"

"Pretty good." Helga said, looking out the far window. "I slept well. Sun's shining. Would be a good day to get out if I weren't trapped in here."

"Rumor has it they're supposed to let you out tomorrow." Phoebe encouraged her friend.

"Yeah. If I'm a good bird and sing the right songs, they'll let me out of my cage." Helga said sarcastically. Phoebe didn't respond to the comment, prompting a mournful sigh from Helga. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. They've been pretty good to me here, except maybe for that nosy head nurse. I feel a lot better after last night. When I woke up this morning, I didn't dread getting out of bed. I don't think I need to tell you how long it's been since I've felt like that." Helga smiled slightly, standing up. Phoebe heard some squeaking as Helga wrestled with the stand her now empty glucose drip was attached to. "Must be something in the food." Helga gripped the base of the phone in her left hand and the stand with her right, cradling the phone's handset between her neck and left shoulder as she plodded her way towards the bathroom. She had to stop every few feet to jiggle some slack out of the phone line and unhook it from a table leg or the foot of her bed. How she longed for a cordless! "I did have a nice dinner last night."

"Anything in particular?" Phoebe asked, still hearing strange noises and beginning to fear that her friend was having trouble.

"They gave me a cut of steak and some mushrooms, with corn and mashed potatoes." Helga continued to struggle with the phone cord, finally managing to get enough slack to maneuver herself to the bathroom door. "Dr. Bliss really went all out. Maybe she heard my complaints about the lunch yesterday. I can't believe that food was from here. Unless it was from the executive wing."

"I'm glad to hear that you're being treated so well Helga." Phoebe beamed. I wouldn't want you to be in a bad environment while you're recovering from your ordeal."

"Ordeal? Phoebe, it was just a mild coma. It wasn't like I was deep down and people had to worry I wouldn't come out. I guess I just needed a little break from life. You know, I needed to take a little time out."

"A three day time out." Phoebe insisted. "I was worried about you, Helga. You're my best friend!"

Helga felt a little bit awkward at her friend's gushing. "Um, thanks. I care about you too."

The girl from Kentucky smiled happily to herself. Helga was rarely open with her emotions for others, unless they happened to be feelings of anger or resentment. Being recognized by Helga was an uncommon event, and Phoebe basked in it, reassured that for all the girl's grandstanding, Helga Pataki appreciated her. "Maybe you'll be treated to another fine dinner tonight."

"Can't say I'll be too picky, as long as the dessert is as good as last night."

"Was it Tira mi sui?" Phoebe asked.

"Not quite. Something much better." Helga smirked.

Phoebe anxiously compiled a list of the better culinary delights in her head, her mind working in a feverish pitch by Helga's silent refusal to give her any more hints. It was that very thought that made her realize she had been approaching this from the wrong angle. "Wait a minute! You're not talking about. . .ice cream?"

"I might have had a little ice cream." Helga remarked, enjoying the cat and mouse game.

"How much?!" Phoebe demanded, an insatiable excitement building up inside her.

"Well, you know me, Phoebe. I don't like to brag. . ."

"You can't say something like that and not tell me the details!" Phoebe paced back and forth."

"Why not?" Helga chuckled. "I don't make you tell me the details about you and Tall Hair Boy." That comment had its desired effect. Helga could almost hear Phoebe's face turning red. She still hadn't figured out what it was those two saw in each other, but Helga didn't feel it was her business, at least not unless her friend ever got hurt. "Oh, okay." Helga agreed to tell her best friend. She took it as a good sign when Phoebe started breathing again. "I did have some ice cream last night. One scoop." Helga revealed as she finally made it to the bathroom door. She leaned against the wall, calling Phoebe's name to no avail. Phoebe had put her phone down and was doing near wind sprints around her room, very energetically happy for Helga. Fortunately, she returned to the phone after a minute or so. Helga didn't mind very much. She couldn't remember anyone ever being so happy for her.

"Oh Helga, that's wonderful! I'm really happy for you! Congratulations."

"Yeah, well, I still haven't figured out if I get seconds or not." Helga explained. "But you know what? I feel great! Except for still being in the hospital and all. So, are you coming down today?"

"Sometime between twelve and one, I think."

"That works. Maybe we could-" Helga turned in the direction of her door and felt the phone cord go taut. It snapped back slightly, pushing her off-balance. In her hast to right herself, Helga dropped the phone which landed on her foot, making a very loud noise and eliciting an even louder yelp from the patient. Helga sank down to the floor to nurse her wounded right foot, only to realize that she was dragging the stand down on to of her. Wide eyed, she thrust her arms above her head in an X formation to keep from being seriously hurt. After the pole crashed into them, she managed to wrap her left hand around it, holding it at an angle as she searched for the receiver. Helga found her voice was as shaky as the hand that held the handset. "Um, Phoebe. I've got a slight problem here. I'll have to call you back." Her eyes darted up to the stand, teetering at its angle. "On second thought, just come by later. I'll be ready." Helga slammed the phone down before she had to explain the embarrassing situation to her friend. She thought about using her handy remote to page a nurse, until she realized that it was back at her bed. _Great. I'm a full nine years old and I still need help going to the bathroom. If only Arnold could see me now. _Helga felt incredibly relieved when the boy with the cornflower hair didn't follow her cue. "NURSE!" she yelled, realizing there wasn't going to be a better way out of this predicament. "LITTLE HELP HERE?!"

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Half an hour later, Helga had managed to empty her bladder, brush her teeth, and even coax her hair into looking somewhat normal. She now lay in her bed, propped against her pillow and her sheets covering her legs so that she could cross them without putting on a free show. Overall, she felt rather pleased with herself.

"You're looking rather chipper this morning, Helga." Dr. Bliss smiled back at her patient.

"Naturally." Helga smirked. "I'm totally screwed up. And I feel great!"

It took the psychiatrist a moment to realize that the girl wasn't being sarcastic. "Somehow, I don't think 'screwed up' is the clinical term for it, Helga. So tell me, why the high spirits?"

"I don't know, exactly. I mean, I know some of it is last night, but I can tell it's more than that. Last night, I must've spent fifteen minutes laughing at my own reflection. Is that weird?"

"What do you think?" Dr. Bliss passed the question back.

"I think I like who I was last night better than the person I usually am."

"Good, you should go with that. You have to confront your own feelings, Helga. Not just about yourself, or your family, or even Arnold. You have to be at peace with yourself. The conflicts that you put yourself through have been putting you under a lot of stress. You already have enough scrapes and bumps and bruises in your life. There's no need to inflict yourself with others."

"What if that's what I do best?" Helga asked, feeling concerned that she wouldn't be able to keep up this level of happiness.

"Then you need to find a better hobby. And you need to believe in your friends more. Speaking of which, I took the liberty of inviting some to drop by later today."

"Like who?"

"You'll see."

"Dr. Bliss?"

"Yes, Helga?"

"Can we go for a walk? I want to get out of this room for awhile."

"Certainly."

Helga quickly got herself out of the bed, determined to make an important stop before anyone showed up. She had work to do!

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Okay, another chapter done. I'm sorry if this one seems a tad bit weird, this one went through some changes and I just didn't have a good closing paragraph in me. Someday I'll quietly replace it with something better, but in the interest of updating the story, you'll have to live with the "It was late and I was tired" version. You deserve better. But judging from the tremendous response I got for chapter 8, that one was just too hard an act to follow. Some stuff didn't even get included in this one. Anyway, I would expect the next chapter to be much better. If you enjoyed Chapter 8, I expect you'll really enjoy Chapter 10.

Thank you all so very very much for supporting the last chapter! It felt so good to find out that so many people thought so highly of it! It makes me feel bad that I'm following it with this one, because there just isn't nearly as good moments. This one is more transitional. Oh well, you'll get much better next time, I promise!

I shudder to think at how this story has ballooned into something far bigger than it was ever intended to be. It isn't an epic by any means, I can see the end in sight. But I've given off on trying to figure out how many chapters are left. I still hope to finish it this week. Depends on how much stuff comes up in between now and my ending that needs to be addressed. I try to keep it real for my readers and not take literary shortcuts. Even when it creates chapters like this, I try to remain confident that you'll thank me for it later.

Author's Clarification—The book Arnold has is NOT Helga's little pink book with all her poetry. This is one of her notebooks that she frequently doodles and scribbles in. I didn't want to use her poetry book because I figure her privacy was invaded enough already! That, and I probably would've been challenged to write a Helga poem of my own, and…let's just say I didn't want to go there!

Keep the reviews and well wishes coming, and I'll keep the story coming! Thank you all again for some wonderful statements these past few days. None of you will be forgotten when I make my long "special thanks" speech at the end of the story!

Reviews are great! But get to know your author better an e-mail/AIM me too! Send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

09/29/04

3:50AM, EST

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	10. Deliberation

The Sweet Hereafter: Deliberation

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Part XXV: Shattered Mirror

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_"What am I, if I can't be yours?"_

--Arianne

"ThanatosIf I Can't Be Yours"

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"I hate looking at myself in a mirror. Whenever I do, I see me as everyone else does, and that's a kick in the keester I really don't need. There are days when I despise this face. I hate not being beautiful. I hate it! I guess it's hard to understand if you're not a girl. Beauty goes a long way to establishing our pecking order. And I'm not beautiful. I'm not even cute. Fortunately, there are other ways of making a name for yourself. I may not be pretty or popular, but everyone knows who I am."

"There's an aura we women of all shapes and sizes supposedly possess, some people call it 'the feminine mystique.' Apparently it's something about us that men are supposed to find fascinating. Something beyond attraction and hormones and. . .whatever it is that turns a boy lovesick. I don't really know what that's about, or how to tap into it, but I'm going to have to make it work for me."

"Nobody really gets me, but I don't have too many complaints since I don't always get myself, either. Love makes you do some crazy, insane things. Things you can't even believe you're doing. I feel like I'm stepping outside myself, watching me behave like a loon. But it's not anything I can help. All common sense fails me wherever Arnold is concerned. He'll never understand how desperate I am to protect him. He is everything this is good in my life made flesh. When he looks at other women the way I want him to look at me. . .no cone could possibly get what that does to me inside. Most people would say it's a simple case of jealousy. I'm not going to deny that. Jealousy plays a large factor. But it pales in comparison to my fear of failure. Failure to make him mine? No, I can live with that. I do everyday. But no one. . .no one! No one can possibly love him the way I can. No one can see him the way I do. And it's the biggest curse I can ever imagine. Too bad Arnold is afflicted with it."

"I'm the one person most suited to him, and he deserves so much better. He deserves someone who doesn't use all the good things about herself as fodder for her worst traits. How can I help but fail him? I can protect him from the ones who won't love him as I do. But who will protect him from me? Sometimes I feel that if I can curl myself into a tight enough ball, I might disappear. Oh, Arnold, where is the perfect woman for your impeccable charms? The one whose beauty rivals fair Aphrodite herself? The one whose compassion is beyond measure? The one who lives to lift you up to the apex of your potential and support you?"

"Can you ever understand the sheer torture I'm going through every day? Why I always lash out at you? There's so much more going on behind these eyes than trying to hide these feelings. I want to be that woman, and every day, I fail. Sometimes before my feet even hit the floor. And then I'm forced to look at myself in the mirror, and I struggle to blink back the tears as I ponder my own weaknesses. Is it so wrong to want to be loved? Doesn't everyone deserve that simplest of pleasures? Of needs? Is it so wrong to want what I can't have? That despite my fear that I'll somehow ruin you, I still beseech some kind of cosmic intervention? Because what am I, if I can't be yours?"

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Part XXVI: Carnations And Carnage

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_"Satisfaction is not guaranteed."_

--Ferengi Rule Of Acquisition #19

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Helga maneuvered herself down the hallway, heading back towards the elevator, her psychiatrist in tow and what she had come to think of as her leash alongside her. Little time had been wasted in replacing Helga's empty bag with a fresh drip, and she had grown quite tired of the thing. It was always there to snap her bag with a quite painful reminder if she wandered too far without moving it. And since it was taller than her, Helga was beginning to think that the stand was always frowning down at her, standing over her body like a jailer, keeping her from making any sudden moves. Of course, she dismissed such ideas as ridiculous, but it was rather disconcerting to turn around and always see it.

"So, you wanted carnations." Dr. Bliss smiled, curious at her patient's choice of souvenir from the hospital's predictably overpriced gift shop.

"They spoke to me." Helga shrugged.

"Pink and white?"

"It's my style, makes me feel a little more comfortable being here."

"Except they're not for you, and we both know it."

"What are you talking about?" Helga asked, clearly annoyed at being analyzed in the hallway. They arrived at the elevator, and Helga thumbed the call button.

"They're for Arnold, aren't they?" Dr. Bliss persisted, most anxious to see if her hunch played out.

"So what's wrong with giving someone flowers. I mean, I have to do something for him! He's been sitting here every morning because of you, keeping watch over me." The elevator doors opened, and Helga advanced inside, snapping her leash with her in one quick stroke. It caught briefly on the grooved metal on the cusp of the elevator's interest, but Helga was able to jar it free with little difficulty. She pushed the button for her floor and felt slightly nervous at the idea of being in so confined a space with someone who was beginning to understand her better than she understood herself.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Helga. They're just memory triggers." Dr. Bliss explained.

"What?"

"Memory triggers. You've bought a small bouquet of flowers for Arnold, to present to him as a gift. The coloring is matches your favorite outfit, the one he usually sees you in. Ergo, whenever Arnold looks at this bouquet, he'll be forced to think of you."

Helga felt her entire body tense up, and her heartbeat increased. _Criminey, how can she be so good?! How can she so casually just rip me open and see what makes me tick?! Is she some kind of alien or something?!_ "Yeah, so, what of it?" Helga asked, feel routed but not defeated.

"Isn't that what you're supposed to tell me? You want Arnold to think of you. Why?"

"Doi!" Helga rolled her eyes. "I don't have a reason! Think of me good, think of me bad, but think of me! Um, preferably good." Helga added.

"I see. So you just want the attention."

"Who wouldn't?" Helga moaned as the elevator doors opened on the floor. Her left hand was firmly gripping her bouquet, while her right hand seized the post, yanking it outside the elevator. It created a bit of a scene, and Dr. Bliss gave an apologetic look to the people who were waiting to board the now empty elevator.

"Helga, wait!" The psychiatrist called after her.

Helga's expression as she proceeded rapidly down the hallway indicated she wasn't someone to be trifled with. She quickly rounded the corner into her room, setting the flowers on the table beside her bed and jumping into it. She fluffed her pillow and nuzzled it, just wanting to escape into sleep for a brief while and not think about things. Dr. Bliss entered the room moment's later. As she saw Helga lying in the bed, she sighed inwardly, then turned off the lights and closed the door. Maybe a little time out wouldn't be so bad for her after all.

Helga had promised herself she wouldn't cry, but she couldn't stop a small trickle of tears. She blinked her eyes to clear them and kept her eyes shut, determined to make her problems leave her alone, if only for a few minutes. It was with the utmost relief that she drifted into sleep minutes later.

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Arnold would've liked to say that Helga was a peaceful sleeper. Judging from some of the pictures she had drawn or the rhymes that went with them, he knew there was something sweet and unnurtured lying within her somewhere. Arnold mentally took "unconscious" off his list of places to try and find it within the girl. Helga snored loudly, sawing enough wood to likely make her a most unwelcome guest at sleepovers. And she drooled! It was like the complete opposite of fairy tale princess, perhaps that was why she somehow lived up to Arnold's expectations perfectly.

And yet, there was still one feature of her sleeping form that Arnold couldn't help but notice in the sunlight that reflected through the closed curtains. Betwixt her arms, held lovingly to her chest, was the other pillow the bed had to offer. She held the pillow protectively, much like a mother would a newborn child, and Arnold was puzzled yet intrigued by the juxtaposition. Her hair was lying limp and unkempt, and he was certain she probably longed for a shower and some better clothes to wear. Hopefully tomorrow they would turn her loose on the world once more.

Arnold lifted her bag, quietly opening it. He still felt a little embarrassed about actually trying on the girl's pajamas last night. They were a little big for him, and definitely not his color. They also didn't help him understand Helga any better at all. His grandfather hadn't said much to him at breakfast that morning, which made Arnold a little worried he might've been spotted in them while he slept, but if so, it would hopefully remain one of those secrets that no one else ever needed to know about.

Reaching inside the gym bag, Arnold withdrew the golden piece of jewelry that Helga was probably most anxious to get back. He still felt a little guilty. He never had opened it, and he wasn't sure if that made him right for preserving Helga's privacy, or wrong for refusing not to look when she had clearly wanted him to. Whichever the case, Arnold decided that it was too late to debate the matter now. He gently placed the locket on the pillow she held so tightly. Not wanting to disturb her slumber, Arnold quietly slid a chair near the window and sat in the late morning sun. Among the few small puffs of clouds that lined the blue sky, Arnold could see a lightweight plane pass overhead. And as Helga dreamed a little dream that Arnold hoped was pleasant, he allowed his mind to wander the skies, and thought happily of his parents, and a world far away.

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Helga awoke to see the object of her affections watching her peacefully, a pensive look on his face. _He's here waiting for me again? I should be so lucky? I'm sure going to miss some of the things about this place. _"Arnold?"

"Good morning, Helga." Arnold smiled.

Helga yawned in response. "I just wanted to take a little nap. I had a bit of a rotten morning."

"I hope the rest of your day is better."

"Thanks." Helga's eyebrow furrowed as she spoke. She could taste her breath, never a good sign. "I must look like a mess. I sure feel like one." Helga sighed, turning her head and wiping her chin with the palm of her hand.

"You don't look so bad at all." Arnold reassured her. "You look like you just woke up, yeah, but it's not so bad. Except maybe your hair." Arnold laughed. "Your hair is a train wreck."

"I shouldn't have to take that from you!" Helga pointed a finger at Arnold's trademark unruly hairstyle.

"What?" Arnold asked, confused. "This is how I always look."

Helga pulled on her pigtails, popping the bow off her head and letting her now stringy hair fall all over. "Is that better, Football Head?"

"Definitely an improvement."

Helga lifted herself up to a sitting position. Her eyes did not miss the locket that had been left for her. She felt much better just having it back in her possession. Clearing her throat, she snatched it up and made it disappear somewhere among her person, looking slightly embarrassed but not saying anything about it. "So, should I get used to you waiting for me whenever I wake up?"

"Your parents might object to some strange kid wandering into their home to watch their daughter sleep."

"Miriam wouldn't." Helga spat. "Bob, maybe. Miriam, definitely not. In fact, I doubt she'd even notice you were there." Helga sighed. "Never mind, forget it." She reached over to the flowers she had brought in earlier. "Here, these are for you. A little something for the white knight." She grinned.

"You're the one in the hospital. Shouldn't I be the one bringing you flowers?" Arnold felt a little confused by this role reversal.

"You know me. I try to make everyone's day a little more surreal."

"Congratulations, you've succeeded admirably. I should put these in some water."

"They have those tube things full of water and food on the stem. They'll be fine for the day. What time is it?"

"Quarter after twelve."

"Criminey! Phoebe will be here soon!"

"Mr. Simmons was planning on coming later as well. A bunch of us made you a card at school this week." Arnold explained.

"You all made _me _a card? All I do is make your lives miserable!"

"Yeah, well, most of the guys still like to be on your team when we play kickball or baseball. You may not be a terribly popular girl at school, Helga, but people don't wish ill of you."

"Yeah, well, some of them don't speak too badly of you either. But they'll have plenty to say about me when I get back to school next week." Helga smirked. "I have a lot of catching up to do."

"Whatever you say, Helga." Arnold chuckled.

"Words to live by, Football Head." Helga joined him in the lighthearted laugh. "So, I see you decided to bring my things back."

"Yeah, they're all here. I wrote some stuff in your notebook, just some comments. I hope you don't mind. I started flipping through it late last night and before I knew it, well, it was late and I was tired. You have a very creative side."

"I try."

"You do more than that, and you know it. You were right about there being a lot about you I don't know. But it's nice to learn more."

"You like my stories, eh?"

"When they're true, Helga."

"They're all true!"

"Even the lies?"

"Especially the lies! But I didn't put any of those in there. A few exaggerations here and their, maybe. But if you'd lived your life as I have, you'd have few qualms about a little embellishment yourself."

"I'd have to take your word for it. I prefer the truth."

"Truth is also subjective. You know that, don't you?"

"Subjective?"

"Sure. If I'm colorblind, and to me, the sky is red, then it's red. That's truth. My truth. It's valid and real to me! Anyway. . ." Helga twiddled her thumbs nervously. "What did you think of the bag?"

"I'm still a little shocked over everything. I mean, I always knew there was more to you than you let on, but."

"I opened the floodgates?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I'd hate for you to be stuck with only one perception of me."

"No chance of that." Arnold reassured her. "Oh, here. I brought us some lunch."

"Must we?" Helga groaned.

"Relax, you'll like it. It should be better than the stuff they've been feeding you in here."

"That's not saying much. I've coughed up better meals." Helga rolled her eyes.

Arnold opened the small, cubic refrigerator that held mainly ice cube trays. He opened the latch on the tiny freezer section and removed two ice cream treats. "I flagged down the Jolly Olly truck before coming. I figured you could use a treat."

"Sounds great, Hair Boy!" Helga exclaimed, her face lighting up. "Bring 'em on!" Helga snatched the treat out of Arnold's hand and tore the rapper off, grateful her brain managed to stay one step ahead of her taste buds. "What the. . .way to go, Football Head!"

"What?" Arnold asked, clearly puzzled that Helga could be annoyed over his gift.

Helga waved the pink ice cream treat in his face. "I'm allergic to strawberries!"

"Oh. Well, you can have mine then. It's just a fudge bar."

"It'll do." They quickly exchanged ice cream bars, and Helga began to devour hers as though it were evidence to be destroyed. "That hit the spot. I guess I'd better go freshen up before the entourage arrives." Helga pushed herself off the bed and began the slow walk to her bathroom. She never heard Arnold come up behind her, pushing her bag and its stand slowly and helping the girl drag it into the bathroom.

"I'll just, uh, wait out here." Arnold said, turning around.

"Oh, right. And I'll just stay in here."

"Okay."

Both Arnold and Helga suddenly found the floor very interesting. Arnold quickly shuffled beyond the door, shutting it behind him. After a moment, he began to hear the sound of a faucet running. Satisfied that Helga could tend to herself, Arnold walked to her bed and set on the edge, picking up the small bouquet of pink and white carnations. And almost on instinct, he began to see a variety of past encounters with the girl all at once. . .

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I'm stopping it there. Always good to end on a cryptic note. Plus, I'm just much more pleased with this outing than the last one. Hopefully my beloved fans of this story will be as well. As for the next chapter. . .I'm hoping it's going to be good. I've already drawn up a scene or two and I like what I've got so far. I'll get it together as quickly as I can. Don't know if it'll be a 24 hour update. I'm on my weekend, now, and I do have a lot of episodes to watch.

You'd be surprised at how much of these chapters just get made up on the spot. I've ended up writing pages and pages that came about just because of one line of dialogue I got in my head. I feel this outing is much stronger than the previous one. Maybe it was the dialogue, I don't know. Someone once told me that "You are the master of dialogue." I'm not going to deny it, I can't write action for crap. That's why I like drama! However, sometimes I like to take the time to write something introspective or descriptive. I feel that as a whole, this story has had some variety, and perhaps that's part of what people like about it. To be honest, I don't really know, I'm just glad that people out there look forward to it, because it gives me a great feeling while writing, even if I'm going through a frustrating stretch.

It's been a long time since I've undertaken a side project, but I've decided I'm willing to give you all something extra if the interest in there. I am thinking about releasing a commentary to each chapter of this story if people are interested. I need to gauge what people think of that, because it is not something I can post here at FFN. I would have to provide it via e-mail or through AIM. I have no problem with doing that, however, I'm not going to take a half hour of my time out for something only two people want to read.

If I do this commentary, the idea is to illustrate where I pulled some ideas from and generally what was going through my mind as I wrote it. Some people may find that very insightful and interesting, others might feel bored by that idea, I don't know. Anyway, I'm asking that if this is something you want to see, tell me. Leave it in a review. Drop me an e-mail. Pass a shout out over AIM. I'm willing to do it if I get at least 5 people interested. Either way, the regular story will be finished, and I won't do more than one chapter of commentary before finishing the main story anyway. Priorities! The beauty of the commentary is that it would have a very minimal impact on my main projects because it's very simple to do.

I know it's becoming a habit, but thanks once again for your continued support. Let's hope this chapter is the proverbial bounce back from the mediocrity of Chapter 9! Send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposal, and COMMENTARY demands to:

Lord Malachite

10/01/04

3:22AM, EST

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	11. The Burning Heart

Author's Note—With the exception of a few paragraphs near the end, appropriately separated; this entire chapter is written from Helga's POV. It just seemed easier to describe once I got going. This means that just about anything not in quotations is the way she sees things. Just wanted to help you all avoid confusion.

The Sweet Hereafter: The Burning Heart

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Part XXVII: The Burning Heart

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_"The first three hours of night were almost spent  
The time that every star shines down on us  
When Love appeared to me so suddenly  
That I still shudder at the memory.  
Joyous Love seemed to me, the while he held  
My heart within his hands, and in his arms  
My lady lay asleep wrapped in a veil.  
He woke her then and trembling and obedient  
She ate that burning heart out of his hand;  
Weeping I saw him then depart from me."_  
--Dante

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It's cold. The chill night air tugs at the American flag as it flaps violently overhead in the wind, the cable clanging a loud tune against the flagpole. I clutch my jacket around me more tightly, the gale cutting through me like a knife. Except it isn't my jacket. I don't really care whom it belongs to. It was there, so I took it.

The sky is dark and cloudy, blocking out the stars above. All the light up here is coming from the illumination of the flag and the random flashing lights around the helipad as it flares like a beacon for any incoming aircraft with serious cases to be tended to.

I'm standing at the edge of the plateau, my palms resting on the cold stone barrier the lines the edge of the roof. I must be at least twelve stories up, yet there's plenty of higher floors. This is high enough for now. I avoid looking over the edge, not wanting to invite a case of vertigo. I can feel the porous rock leaving its mark on the soft flesh of my hands, dotted indentations.

I just couldn't take it in there anymore. Arnold, Geraldo, Fat Boy, Princess, Little Miss Perfect, not to mention Simmons. It's like a veritable who's who of the people who drive me crazy. The only person up there who wasn't getting to me is Phoebe. Out here, I can breathe. I cough violently as I fill my lungs with the cold, painful air. I can feel the protest of my chest. Good. I'm alive, you hear me? No more processed air. No more regulated food. No more solutions dripping into my arm. I can't take that. I can't take people's sympathy. I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me. Can't they see I'm fine? I'm not that fragile. I go through more in a week than most of them probably suffer through in a month. People need to be stronger.

_Then why are you here?_

Shut up. You know why I'm here. I'm taking a break from everyone. I need to clear my head. I need to get a handle on who I am again. I need. . .

_Clarity?_

Yeah. It's freaking cold out here. I'm probably going to get myself sick. Guess it's a good thing I'm already in the hospital. Now if I can just figure out who I am. No, forget that crap. Who do I want to be? Who do I want to become?

_You're not so different from anyone else. _

Yes I am. Just a pity it's by choice. I could be more like the others. Truth is that I don't make a very convincing boy or girl. I'm a poor excuse for both. Too much masculinity to act like a woman. I don't like makeup and shopping and giggling about stupid boys that aren't worth my attention. Too much woman in me to act like a boy. I do almost everything on emotion, whatever twisted combination of hate and love for the world around me that I'm feeling that day.

Why can't I ever stand up to myself? Why can't I stop with the irrational hatred, or the overwhelming love? Do I enjoy hurting myself, hurting everyone else? Maybe if I can make everyone else get fed up with me, they'll all just go away. Is that what I want?

I don't know anything, anymore. I want to be loved. I want to be hated. I want to be appreciated. I want to be scandalized. I want. . .I want something new. I want to live again.

"Don't do it!"

I turned around at the sound of a voice and a metal door opening loudly, letting out a horrid squeal. The door was in a terrible state of disrepair. Of course, Arnold also had to climb over the giant metal pole that was resting on the four stone steps outside the door. "Don't do it Helga!"

"Don't do what?" I asked him, clearly confused and mildly disappointed that it had only taken them forty-five minutes to find me.

"Don't jump." Arnold said with grave concern, catching his breath.

"Jump? Why would-" It's in this moment that I find I don't know whether to laugh or cry. He thought I was going to jump? Criminey! There's plenty wrong in my life, but I'm not suicidal by any means. Still, the fact that he thought that I might. . .and that he actually rushed to stop me? That's just. . .it's so Arnold. I haven't done many kind things for Arnold over the years, but he's still just as ready to save my life as if I were his best friend.

"Okay." I say sarcastically, as though he's interrupting me. "I won't jump. You've ruined the moment anyway."

"That's not very funny, Helga." Arnold scolds me. Typical.

"It wasn't supposed to be. How did you find me?"

"Well, it did take a little while. The party in your room was swinging pretty good. But when I realized you had never come back from getting that cup of tea, I mentioned it. And then Lila noticed her jacket was missing. So we knew you must be outside somewhere. I saw you through a window, I was trying to look into the parking lot. It's lucky the roof on this wing is lower. Anyway, I saw you out here, and I was afraid you were going to. . .do something drastic."

It is sweet. Unfortunately what he doesn't realize is that I'm most bothered now by the fact that I'm wearing Little Miss Perfect's jacket. "I'm not going to kill myself, Arnold." Lila, perhaps. But never you.

"Good. Because I'd miss having you around. You should take better care of yourself. What happened to your drip?"

Take care of myself? Men always say that. I guess we have ourselves to blame. There was a time when men took care of us. Way to go, feminist movement. Now men can't take care of themselves, and aren't supposed to take care of us. Women can take care of men but suck at taking care of themselves. If we don't help each other, we're all going to be miserable. And me? Well, I'm alive. I don't claim to be much else at this point.

"Oh, that old thing? You jumped over it on your way out here. Tonight, Helga Pataki declared her independence from the IV. Want to see the war wound?" I asked, extending my punctured wrist with the dried blood. It hurt like hell pulling that thing out. But something about it also felt so good. Like I'm a little more alive now.

"You need to get that cleaned up, Helga."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it concern you too much. I just came out here for some fresh air. Not that it's any of your business, Football Head."

"Does that really make you fell better?"

"What?"

"Helga, anytime you talk to anyone, you always run them down. I've come to accept that's just a part of who you are. But why do you want to be that way? I know you don't really hate everyone."

"Please! Spare me the lecture, Arnoldo. You don't know squat about me."

"That's where you're wrong. You gave those things to me last night so that I would. So maybe I don't know your whole life story, or the motivation behind everything you do. But you gave me a glimpse inside of you, Helga. And the girl I know as Helga G. Pataki would never live her life, hating everyone around here. She's better than that."

"She is what her life has made her. You still don't see it, do you?"

"See what?"

I sighed, feeling so weak and useless. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe I was just tired of everything. What the heck, he already knew a lot of my stories anyway. One more wouldn't kill me. "It's amazing how much of my life has been determined by a plate of saltine crackers and a wistful sigh. Funny, isn't it?"

"Tell me."

"The reason that I am the person you know today, is partly because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Yes. The first day I met you, you were kinder to me than anyone else in this world had ever been, even my own parents. You were the first person to treat me with respect. I was young and impressionable. I couldn't stop staring at you."

"At me? Why? What did I do?" Arnold asked, feeling very confused.

"You don't remember, do you?" My voice sounds so disappointed. Great. Now I'm laying a guilt trip on him. I really don't want Arnold feeling sorry for me. Not tonight. That might be more than I can bear. "The first day of pre-school, that jerk Harold stole my snack. You gave me yours."

"I don't remember it very clearly, Helga. I'm sorry. But I'm sure you're right."

"Of course I'm right! I was there! My whole life was shaped by that day! No one had ever gone out of there way for me. My parents couldn't even remember my name. They still don't. Frequently. But you were there. You don't understand what that felt like to me. I wanted to take you home with me! I would've stayed with you forever that day if someone said I could!"

"Because I was nice to you?" Arnold asked.

Was it my imagination, or were his cheeks growing red? Maybe it's just the cold. "You may have thought of it as being kind, but in my position, you might as well have been asking me to marry you. You really did have me at hello. You forever changed my life that day, Arnold. And I'm never going to forgive you for it."

"Helga. . ."

"Don't interrupt me! Anyway, other people couldn't help but notice. I mean, you know how kind we kids can be. Personally, I'd never zero in on someone's weakness and expose them, but others just don't seem to share my enlightened philosophy."

"Right." Arnold rolled his eyes at me. Good. I have his attention. "So everyone else teased you."

"And I fought back with a vengeance. I've never stopped, either. I don't know if I ever will. It's my nature."

"There's nothing funny about that, Helga. You know that you're capable of better."

"Maybe I was once. I don't know anymore. But that isn't what's funny. What's funny is you and me."

"You and me?"

"Yes! Think about it! You've never met a pretty face you don't like. In the past year alone, you were pining over Ruth, you were bamboozled by Summer, and now you're haunting Lila's footsteps. At least she's your own age. So here we are. I want to be with you. You want to be with Lila. And I don't even know what Miss Perfect wants. But in the end, we're all going to be unhappy."

"You don't know that. And I don't go after women on looks alone."

"Whatever you say, Arnold." I can't even bear to look at him right now. I'm too amazed by my own stupidity.

"Come on, Helga. I mean, you're beautiful, and I've never--"

That tears it. I'm going to break him in two! "Save your pity for someone else, Hair Boy! I don't need it!"

"It's not pity, Helga. You're different that any other girl I know. Believe what you want. You look beautiful."

"You lie poorly."

"Whatever you say, Helga."

"What do you want me to say here, Arnold?"

"I don't know. Accept a compliment gracefully?"

"Cut the crap!" Helga roared, angry and a bit hurt. "I'm not beautiful, and I'm not graceful, so stop patronizing me!"

"Oh come on, Helga!" Interesting. Arnold rarely got worked up over anything, not like this. "Why do you always do these things to yourself?"

"What are you babbling about?!"

"Stop punishing yourself, alright? Stop punishing everyone around you. It has to stop, Helga. I don't know what we're supposed to do here. Why can't you just admit that you're just a kid like me who's confused? I don't know what I'm doing! It's not nearly so scary if you admit it." He's laughing. He really is a fool! "Not with Ruth. Not with Summer. Not with Lila. And you. . .I don't even know where to start with you! You went to an awful lot of trouble to get me to notice you, to understand you. Now you just can't wait to pick a fight with me. I thought you were okay, Helga. But maybe I was wrong."

Curse him for being so direct! I hate it when he won't let me blow smoke up his butt. Makes everything so much more difficult. "I've never been okay in my life, Arnoldo! I've just survived." There's no way I can keep looking at him. I turn away, out towards the lights of the city and the harsh wind. "I always just survive. Always looking for my next meal. Subsisting off of little emotional breadcrumbs you deign to feed me. But on the inside, I'm sick and I'm dying. I've given up, Arnold."

"Given up on what?" Arnold asked me softly. I could feel his hand on my shoulder. Don't do this to me now! I can live without you loving me, but don't take away my pain and leave me with nothing. The only things in my life that are truly mine are my pain and my love for you! You can have one, but not both. Leave me with something, don't take everything I am and walk away with that beautiful smile I can't bear to see moving away from me.

"On trying. . .on trying to stand on my own. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Let me be, damn you! No. No! Stop it! You baby! You weak, sorry excuse for a person! You-will-not-cry! Not for him! "My parents. . ." I can hear my voice in that slow, defeated whisper. I swallow back a sob and the cold air burns my throat, my lungs protesting. "My parents always ruin everything. They ignore me and neglect me and forget that I even exist. And just when I'm okay with it, when I've learned to live without them and take care of myself, Bob or Miriam will step up and actually act like a guardian to me. It never lasts. It's just enough to keep me from giving up on them. Enough to keep me from living for myself. And they have no idea how much I hate them for it. And them? They're too delusional to realize how much better off I'd be if they'd just let me go."

"Don't say that." Arnold insisted. He always insists those kinds of things. Always putting someone else's problems into perspective. "I can't really remember my parents. So in some ways, I may never really know who I am. Grandma and Grandpa do so much. But still. . .I don't really know what kind of people my parents were. Are." Very clever, Football Head. You still hold out hope that your parents are alive, but you're realistic enough to understand they probably aren't.

"Didn't your grandparents tell you anything about them?" I asked with curiosity.

"Sure, they've told me lots of stories. Even why they left. But it's not the same. I want my own impressions."

I sneezed in response. Sure, way to ruin the moment, Helga Old Girl. "Guess it's cold out here."

"We should go back inside." Arnold indicated the door and the warm light spilling out from around it. It looked inviting. And yet. . .something about this environment just seemed right.

"Takes you back, doesn't it, Football Head?"

"What does?"

"To that windy summer's night on the roof. Be honest. It wasn't so terrible, was it?"

"Surprising would be more the word for it. It really wasn't a good night for. . .complications."

"I've never been very good at timing. So. . .what about now?"

"Now?!" It's been too long since I've seen his eyes go that wide. Funny that they're still beautiful.

"Yeah. Why not? You have something better to do?"

"I. . .don't know if this is such a good idea, Helga."

Don't even try it! After all you've put me through, you owe me a lot more than that, bucko! "You wanted to know about me. Here's your chance to learn."

". . .Alright." Only a moment's hesitation. Not bad. Not bad at all.

"Now you're talking, Hair Boy."

Haven't boys and girls been doing this since the beginning of time? You'd think we'd have perfected it by now. Twice my nose smashed into his cheek, off-target. If anyone can see us, we must look like the pathetic amateurs we really are. Good. At least we're on even ground for a change.

"Um, sorry." Oh, perfect. Now he's avoiding my eyes. "I wasn't. . .prepared or anything." His voice sounds like that of a child caught raiding the cookie jar. This is ridiculous! I could hear myself growling. That's it, find another outlet for the sexual frustration. One fluid motion, and I can feel the cleft of his shoulders in my hands. Perfect. He looks a little scared of the grin that's on my face. Smart boy. You should be afraid. "Um. . .Helga, shouldn't we-"

"Shut up." I hiss, my voice sounding less confident than I'd like. "Kiss me."

Contact. Bingo! There you are, my angel. Come on. . .open up or there's no point to any of this! What's it going to be? Drive or reverse? Do anything but leave me hang—that's it! Oh yeah. That's the stuff, boy. This is what they're talking about in all those poems. Soft and warm and sweet and full of life itself. Can you feel that? Taste that, and tell me nothing's there! This is it, isn't it? It's like. . .being inside joy. If it were a blanket I could wrap around myself, this would be it. Do you get it now? Do you, Football Head? I love you!

Splashes. Strange. It's not supposed to rain tonight. Why is my face so wet? Oh no! It can't be! My beloved is a drool kisser! It can't be! No. . .that's not it. It's. . .salty. Tears? Is he crying? No, of course not. I'm crying. Why am I crying? What am I scared of? What's happening? I feel like. . .I feel like I'm floating away. My arms are wrapped around his silly head and we're flying away. Just like in one of those fairy tales, and we'll always be happy forever and-

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"Helga?" Arnold asked, his cheeks flushed and his vision cloudy. He blinked twice, scattering the blurriness out of his eyes just in time to see Helga's body go limp. He caught her before she fell, her body becoming so much dead weight. A cloud still appeared before her lips in the chill night air. Good, she was only unconscious. As he struggled with Helga's form, getting her towards the warm safety of the hospital one step at a time, he was unable to avoid the contented smile that shown on Helga's serene face. Arnold chuckled, feeling pleased with himself as he worked his way inside the doors and gently set Helga in a wheelchair left just inside. "Wow, that was some kiss!"

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That's it, that's exactly where I want to end. I really feel good about parts of this chapter, although I'm still a little frightened. Hopefully I recaptured some of that stuff about Chapter 8 you all loved. I tried to mix a lot into here. I got very emotional myself while typing this. I hope it pays off.

My biggest concern with this story as of late is to make you feel things by shedding a little light on the situations. I try to dig deeper and get into the feelings associated with Helga's life and actions and how she lives. This was the first time I ever did an entire chapter from her POV. Parts of that were daunting, but I also felt that I did a little growing myself while writing this. The monologues were one thing, but this was one of the more challenging parts overall. Still not as bad as Chapter 8, though. I guess there's little left for me to do but step back, let the reviews come in, and see what I've wrought.

Of course, even after this. . .I'm still not done! You can celebrate a little now, though. I have decided on an ending. So now that I actually know where this story is going, maybe it will make a little more sense. A lot of it is still made up as I go. This entire chapter was written around 6 words. Everything else just came together to make something I feel comfortable standing by.

This one took a few days, I know. I probably spoiled you all by now. I just. . .needed some time off. I've been very diligent with updating this story and I needed a day or two to reconnect with my friends and that thing scientists call "sleep." Hopefully this means marked improvement in my work. Time will tell.

Lastly, aside from this new chapter, there is now a complete commentary available for the first chapter. Remember that? I wrote it not so long ago. Things sure have come a long way, haven't they? It's now available via e-mail. Yes, I know FFN's lame policy deletes my e-mail in every file. I leave a space for it in protest. Of course, all my contact information is readily available in my bio. Don't be scared. It's only a paragraph.

You know what, there's no point denying it. I want your feedback on this one more than ever. I'll beg and grovel. I have no dignity anyway. Trust me. I work in a call center. Review the crap out of this thing!

And as always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

10/04/04

4:39 AM, EST

E-mail: 

AIM: Asukaphile26


	12. Midnight Vigil

The Sweet Hereafter: Midnight Vigil

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Part XXVIII: The Simple Things

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_"Woman was taken out of man -- not out of his head, to rule over him; nor out of his feet, to be trampled under by him; but out of his side, to be equal to him -- under his arm, that he might protect her, and near his heart that he might love her."_   
-- Henry

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"Now we're getting somewhere. You're finally getting it, aren't you, bucko? That's what I'm searching for. That's what I'm striving for. That's what I'm trying to make happen. Finally! Someone understands!"

"This is what love is all about. That's the great mystery. That's all I want. Am I getting there now? I still feel like my heart's beating out of my chest. My body is still wracked with chill, but inside, my heart burns brighter than the sun, radiating warmth through all my being."

"My entire life, I've been walking on eggs, always afraid that one day I'd finally fall down and splatter everything for good. And as I lie here now and contemplate the majesty and wonder of that one, unforgettable moment. . .I know that I'm alive, and I'm a better person for it."

"Maybe it isn't something that can be explained. You have to understand it with your heart, not with your head. Everyone should be entitled to that one perfect moment in life where you know that somehow, everything is going to be okay. Absolute truth. How I wish I had the ability to slow down time, live in that moment forever."

"A part of me screams that this can't possibly last. Maybe it can't, I don't know. All I know right now is that after all the years of heartache and sexual frustration, I was validated. All I know is that despite all the improbabilities, something good happened. And you know what? It felt great! I don't care about all that talk of sex you hear high school kids whisper about in allies. Nothing can be better than this. The only thing I may never forgive myself for is waiting so long. To think, all this time, all I had to do was say it. The world didn't end. I've spent so much of my life fearing what would happen if everyone else found out my secret. And now that he knows, the only one of them that matters. . .well, who cares what anyone else thinks? Why should I? 'I've got the world on a string, sitting on a rainbow, got the string around my finger. What a world, what a life, I'm in love!' My dream wasn't hopeless. I wasn't so foolish. And even if I'm made to wait another six years, I still know now that he's there. Whatever it is, it's there between us. No one can take that away now but us!"

"That's all I really want, when you get right down to it. I've had many dreams for Arnold and I, most of them grandiose and involving all the finer things in life. And then I live in the moment of that kiss and realize that it's the simple things that are the best. What I want now is to live, with him. I want to slip up behind him and wrap my arms around his neck. It's not so much about palaces and cruises anymore as it is studying for the SAT or conspiring to stay out past curfew. Eating pizza and watching bad TV while I wrap myself around him on the couch. Geez, when did I turn into such a girl? Maybe the occasional dinner out. But not French. I just want to live with him now, as a partner instead of an adversary. Everything else is gravy. I don't care about anything else. With him, I finally feel like I'm home. That I'll be okay. That I'm worth something. That my life is worth living. That I can make myself more than I am as long as he believes in me. 'I've got the simple things; I've got the rain in spring; got spicy chicken wings, and French fried onion rings. . ."

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Part XXIX: Sorry For Nothing

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_"If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something."_

--Steven Wright

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Dr. Bliss paced up and down the length of her patient's room, clearly upset, yet also relieved. Her patient lay peacefully asleep in the bed, Helga's body absorbing the booster for her immune system as her mind rested fully for perhaps the first time since the girl's infancy. Arnold sat in a chair too large for him, feeling guilty and trying unsuccessfully not to show it.

"I'm sorry." Arnold said at length, longing for the company of his best friend Gerald, who was now sitting outside the room with Phoebe. The psychiatrist had chased everyone else out when Arnold had wheeled Helga's unconscious form in. Mr. Simmons had been particularly apprehensive about leaving, and Arnold was certain that Helga would've taken great please in seeing their teacher ousted.

"You children just grow up so fast these days." Dr. Bliss sighed.

"I don't know about that." Arnold shrugged.

"Trust me, one day you'll be saying the same thing. It comes with the territory, Arnold. Unfortunately."

"What, psychiatry?"

"No. Age." She sighed again. "I see you've learned a lot over the past few days."

"Not nearly enough. In spite of everything that's happened, it's like she's still a complete mystery to me. Every time I turn around, there's something new I never saw before. It's pretty amazing, but at the same time confusing. Like I'm trying to put her together like a puzzle."

"That's just the kind of person she is, Arnold. I wish I could help you, but I'm afraid I'm not allowed to disclose the personal details of my patient. Whatever she decides to tell you about herself is her business."

"I understand. And I am glad to see her change her attitude. Even if it doesn't last, at least now I know for certain that she isn't really that way."

"Like all of us, Helga is still in the process of becoming herself." The psychiatrist nodded. "But you may have given her a push in the right direction, helped her find the path that's right for her."

"She told me quite a bit about herself. She's really. . .different than I expected."

"How so?" Dr. Bliss asked, intrigued.

Arnold drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair for a moment, looking for the right way to express himself. "For someone who so frequently chooses spite, hatred, and intimidation over a better way, she's surprisingly soft. I always knew she was insecure, suspected that there was something else about her, deep down. But I never imagined how vulnerable she really is. It caught me off guard. To be honest, I'm still not completely sure how to handle that. But given her own feelings, and all that she's been through—some of it self-inflicted. . .I feel somewhat responsible for her."

"Do you blame yourself? Are you here just to clear your own conscience? I'm sorry, Arnold, but you're a very tender spot for this girl. You need to understand how easily you can hurt her, perhaps without ever meaning to. I'm certain she'll grow with time, but for now. . ."

"I need to be careful."

"Yes."

"I don't like to see anyone in pain." Arnold ran his fingers down his face. "But somehow, it feels really comforting to know that there's a reason behind Helga and the things she does."

"Oh, there's definitely a method to her madness." Dr Bliss smirked. "She is remarkable, isn't she? When I first began seeing her. . ." the psychiatrist paused, looking for the right way to explain things to the boy without violating patient confidence. ". . .well, she wasn't what I expected. In some ways, yes. It's not that hard to see that she frequently puts up a front. But there were a lot. . .there are a lot of things that I still don't know about her. Things I would've missed out on if I hadn't gotten to know her as a person as well as a patient. She has a lot of layers, and she's fond of protecting herself."

"I guess my problem is, I don't really know what I should say to her next, Dr. Bliss."

"Push her, Arnold. Because she will push you. You know now that there's so much more to her than she lets on. Don't let her hide it. She may hurt you, but try to remember that if she does, she's. . .only trying to hurt herself." The doctor finished her sentence quietly, knowing she was probably saying too much.

"I'll do my best." Arnold slid out of the chair and crossed over to Helga's bed, where the girl now dozed peacefully; a cocktail of immuno-boosters and a mild sedative coursing through her veins, allowing her weakened body to regain its strength. Arnold couldn't help but notice how she looked so much more peaceful than she had when he had first arrived that afternoon. He picked Helga's pink bow up from the table beside her bed, twirling it in his hands and staring, much as Helga herself had done a day earlier. She really did seem to undergo a transformation when her hair was down, almost as though she had become someone else. Her hair spilled about her head freely, much of it cushioning the back while the rest sort of spread out to gather beside her cheeks, a few errant strands ruffled by her slow breathing. Her sleep now seemed much more pristine. Absent was any sign of spittle or even a snore. Just a young girl resting peacefully, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm with every breath her lungs drew in and out. Arnold still couldn't get over how soft her facial features now looked, such a drastic change from what he had come to expect. Her distinctive eyebrow wasn't furrowed in anger or frustration as Arnold was accustomed to, but instead rested in a slight upward curve, complimenting the nearly imperceptible yet all-too-noticeable smile on her now familiar and somehow unavoidable lips. His hand reached out to brush a bit of blonde hair from her eyes, but he withdrew it just prior to making contact. Arnold forcibly broke the spell by turning back towards Dr. Bliss.

The psychiatrist nodded back at him. "She is unique, isn't she?"

"If you ever get the chance, look her in the eye sometime." Arnold blinked. They're like the cold fire of a thousand suns."

"Her emotions are very intense, Arnold. Some would say that it is a mistake to throw yourself into your own feelings with such passion. But she always does so anyway, even if it hurts. Because she believes in something better."

"We're not so different." Arnold agreed. "But it may be awhile before we know if we can get along."

"You can come back tomorrow."

"Will she still get out?" Arnold did feel a bit worried that he'd made her sick by allowing her to stay out in the cold too long.

"I think so, assuming she shows healthy signs in the morning."

"I hope so." Arnold said, gathering up his jacket and the arrangement of carnations that Helga had presented him with earlier. As he and the good doctor were about to leave, the door opened and the large head nurse entered, wheeling another stand inside the room and a fresh drip. Arnold and Dr. Bliss exchanged a look, and she nodded back at him.

"Is that really necessary?" The doctor asked.

The nurse shrugged. "Rules are rules." She efficiently took hold of Helga's left arm, swabbed the girl's recently cleaned and bandaged wrist, and carefully inserted the IV.

Defeated, the doctor and the boy quietly walked out of the room. But as Arnold turned to take one last look at Helga's sleeping body, he could've sworn he saw a pleading expression on the girl's face.

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Outside the room, Arnold found Phoebe sitting in a chair across the hall, his friend Gerald leaning against the wall just next to her. Dr. Bliss smiled at the reunion of friends. "Well, I'm sure you children have a lot to talk about. Just remember, the last bus comes by here at 9:30. Don't be late."

"We'll catch it. Thanks, Dr. Bliss." Arnold nodded.

"You're welcome. Be seeing you." She turned and walked down the corridor, in search of a cup of coffee.

"Goodbye!" Phoebe waved.

Gerald himself barely acknowledged the woman's leavetaking. "Now there goes one saucy vixen." He shook his head slowly.

"What?" asked Arnold, confused. "You barely even acknowledged she was here!"

"Yeah, well, I'm playing hard to get." Gerald explained. Phoebe rolled her eyes at him.

Arnold chuckled. "Man, you are something else."

"Yeah? Well, the word on the street is that you becoming quite the sensation yourself."

"Gerald. . ." Phoebe pleaded, tugging on Gerald's sleeve.

Arnold clearly felt out of the loop. "Okay, what am I missing here?"

Phoebe shook her head, clearly uninterested in pursuing the matter. "How is she?"

"Resting peacefully." Arnold reassured the girl. "She looks a lot better now than she did when I first came here this afternoon. She was asleep then, she looked like a wreck."

"Are you serious?" Gerald asked. "She looked normal to me. Y'know, except for that whole hospital gown motif where your butt sticks out the back. She cleans up pretty good."

"I packed her an extra long shirt so she could walk around when she had visitors." Phoebe laughed, then her face took on a more somber expression. "I'm worried about her, though. She hasn't talked with me much since the incident."

"It's all right, Phoebe." Arnold flashed her one of his smiles. "I promise that I'll help take care of her until everything's back to normal. Dr. Bliss says she's still supposed to be released tomorrow. I'm sure things will be better for her when she gets to go home." _It's not my home. I don't suppose it ever will be. It's just a place for me to put my crap._ Helga's voice reverberated throughout the walls of his head, nearly causing him to shudder.

"Oh thank goodness!" Phoebe seemed truly relieved at the news. I'm certain she'll be much happier away from here. __

_The only people who really care whether I'm alive or not are in this building. _Again, a chill passed through Arnold. "Yeah, Phoebe. I'm sure you're right."

Gerald couldn't stop smirking. "You do realize that this has gotta be the first time our whole class has been worried about Helga."

"I think it's a good thing. Better we help each other back up. Even Helga doesn't kick us when we're down. There's no sport in that. Besides, admit it, you miss her, don't you?"

"I never thought I'd say it, but yeah. I do miss the girl. She and I don't get along, but. . .I guess it's like, I'm used to having her around. School is really quiet without her, and this whole week you haven't even been around for first period. It's been driving me crazy. And I'm sure you miss the spitballs, right?" Gerald needled his best friend.

Arnold reflexively ran a hand through his hair, then along the back of his head and neck. Inside, he still felt as though Helga were haunting this conversation. He could almost hear her voice now, feigning innocence as he would turn around in class to give her a dirty look. _What?!_

"Hey, you okay?" Gerald asked, noticing that his best buddy was turning a little pale.

"What?" Arnold asked, being drawn back to reality. "Oh, I'm fine. Sorry, I spaced out for a second."

"Thanks for finding Helga tonight, Arnold." Phoebe beamed. "But you should be more careful yourself. Did the cold get to you as well?"

"Maybe it did." Arnold pondered. "I am beginning to feel a little lightheaded."

"Come on." Phoebe smiled. "We should go home. There's nothing more we can do here, right Arnold."

"That's right. We can come back tomorrow when she's awake. Besides, I want to talk to Dr. Bliss again." Arnold began walking towards the public elevators.

"Mmm mmm mmm." Gerald shook his head thrice. "You'd better be careful, Arnold. Between trying to win over Lila, spending all this time with Helga, and now wanting a private session with Dr. Bliss? You're going to give yourself a rep with the ladies!"

This time, it was Arnold's turn to roll his eyes. "I'll risk it." He said, climbing aboard the elevator with his friends.

"You think I'm kidding, don't you? I mean, she already bought you flowers, or did you think we hadn't noticed. . ." Gerald's voice faded as the elevator doors closed and the lift began its descent, Arnold wondering not for the first time if he was in over his head.

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Okay everyone, that's going to do it for this time. I know it took me a long time to get this one out. I wrote it slowly, and I held it back a day or two to whet your appetites better, I guess. I was also hoping to garner one more view to make an even 50 before this one. Close is good enough, though.

This was a very different kind of chapter for me to write. After all is said and done, this story essentially IS Helga, she's the driving force. Taking her out of the action for awhile seemed a bit of a risky scheme on my part. However, I came to realize that these are the types of thing that help you grow as a writer, and I got a significant amount of support from my close friends online regarding this matter. Nothing left to do now but run this up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes.

I hope none of you thought that the story had reached the end after the last update. Remember several chapters ago when I said there would only be two more? That went out the window real fast, didn't it? The truth of the matter is, as I get more involved with the story, the characters, their concerns and feelings. . .I keep discovering things that I feel need to be addressed. Consequently, I don't always know where I'm going. As I stated last time, most of what I feel are the best scenes in this story sprang from just a few simple lines I had in my head. It's amazing how things can just come together sometimes.

I guess this is the fabled end of the file, where the waiting begins for you the reader all over again. I will try not to make you wait so long next time. I have had a lot of distractions lately. At the time of this uploading, I still need to watch three more episodes of Farscape before the miniseries on October 17th. I also have a mini-golf tournament on the 16th, and I have a lot of practicing to do tomorrow, since it will be the last day off I have before the tourney. Everyone wish me luck, and I'll keep working to bring you quality work.

A special thank you to those of you who take the time to read and review, you deserve a round of applause. I promise to do something for you guys and girls after it's finished. I've also completed the first commentary and it is ready to all who ask for it. Just be sure to leave your e-mail address in a review, or write me directly.

And, as always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

10/09/04

12:51AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26


	13. Outside Looking In

The Sweet Hereafter: Outside Looking In

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Part XXX: Sunday Brunch

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_"Never begin a business negotiation on an empty stomach."_

--Ferengi Rule Of Acquisition #214

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It's quiet. A very quiet drip. I can hear the sound of breathing. Is that my own? I've got to learn to sleep lighter, or maybe with one eye open. It's just so quiet. Okay. Time to face the day.

A myriad of pixels forms before my eyes as I slowly open them. I could feel the seal of sleep, breaking apart and spreading into the corner of my eyes as I begin my morning. I blink my eyes feverishly, trying to shake off the grogginess. A long yawn escapes from my throat, stubby fingers running over my anatomy, addressing those early morning itches as I sit up to greet the sun.

"Good morning." Arnold smiles at me from a chair beside my bed.

I turn in his direction, so startled that I don't even realize my butt lifted off the bed until I land back on it. "Ar-Arnold!"

"Sorry." I can hear him chuckling at me as I slide myself back under the covers, rearranging this plain white and checkered hospital gown. I'll never understand how he can apologize to me in accompaniment with a laugh and yet I am somehow grateful for both. "I seem to recall your enjoying my being here when you wake up. I figured this would be the last chance."

How could one boy possibly be this sweet? He's going to break me. He already has, don't I know it! "I. . .um. . ." Look at me, fidgeting with these sheets as though they hold the answers I seek. That pathetic voice can't possibly belong to me. C'mon, Helga Old Girl, get with it!

"You don't have to thank me, Helga. I wanted to be here. Besides," It's hard to take my eyes off his graceful, slender finger to look where he's pointing. Of course. The IV. Symbol of my captivity. My domestication. Who am I fooling? This place has made me docile. "I owe it to you for that. Dr. Bliss and I fought against it, but. . ."

I'm looking at this stupid stand with its half-empty bag, delivering who knows what through a tube and into my veins, one drop at a time. Am I supposed to just sit still for this? The hospital seems to think so. Shouldn't I be doing better? But I'm not. The bag drifts slightly back and forth like a pendulum, undulating with even the slightest movement of my arm. I turn my gaze on Arnold, sitting sullenly to my right. I find my voice, and what comes out of my mouth seems to be as much a surprise to him as it is to me. "Thanks for trying."

He looks at me with those eyes of his, searching for some sort of confirmation. Maybe I should've insulted him a little. Guess I've conditioned him too well. "Don't mention it. I'm sorry to wake you, but your breakfast came, and I didn't want it to get cold. Here." Arnold slides off his chair, the magnificent curls of his hair billowing with flawless grace and artistry as his feet hit the ground. He maneuvers the table into position, its surface now in front of me along with my meal, still smelling fresh. "It looks good."

My nose wrinkles at the steam wafting upwards from the tray. "I told you last night, Football Head. You lie poorly."

"That's because I don't like to lie." You always were a hopeless goody-good. Maybe that's why I want to make you mine.

"Sometimes it's better to lie, Arnold-o." Time passing by on the clock. 9:37AM. In less than twenty-four hours, we'll be back in school, the cycle of _samsara_ beginning all over again. "Last night was nice." It wasn't a lie. Why do I have to make him think it was by saying it now?

"I thought so too. I'm glad we talked. We never talk, Helga."

We've never had reason to. Our relationship has been completely adversarial, almost constantly on my part. How I long to understand the reasoning behind this foolish game I play that shall someday ruin me! "We did more than that." I shift my fork around in this mess called scrambled eggs. Great. Now I'm bringing the whole thing up. Way to invite rejection, Helga. "I don't know where we go from here." Perfect! Just in case Arnold didn't realize how bad things were, now he knows that I don't even have confidence in myself. Oh yeah, I'm real girlfriend material all right.

"Well, what do you want?" He's asking me with sincerity, and I can feel every gear, flywheel, and cog in my brain trying to formulate a winning response. He's afraid, definitely afraid. But not of me. Something else.

"I want a lot of things." Most of them involve you. I could read you a list that would turn your cheeks red and make your ears burn, bucko. You have no idea! "But I think we both know that tomorrow morning, all bets are off."

"It doesn't have to be that way." Always the optimist.

"But it's better for both of us." For you, anyway. I don't want to talk about me, Arnold.

"What's better? To bottle everything up inside? Helga, I don't want it to be like that."

Criminey! Why does this stuff always happen to me? I don't want to push my luck! I shove my breakfast away from me like it's some kind of poison. Probably isn't that far from the truth. "For once, let me do something for you."

He pushes the tray back in front of me like I'm a child. Criminey and a half, he's persistent! If I were anywhere else, I would haul off and belt him one. I know it! Then he forks a piece of that waffle and lifts it to my lips. I still can't resist the image of him feeding me. My lips reluctantly part to allow safe passage. He looks me in the eye, smiling, and I can feel my anger evaporating. "Keep up your strength." He's smiling for me. For me! And no one else! "No one's going to be afraid of Ol' Betsy if you can't even lift her up."

"This has got to be the first time in recorded history when someone wanted to help a bully."

"You're not a bully, Helga. And you know it." I did not hear those words. I could not have heard those words. It's not physically possible. There's no way! Does he have any idea how I've longed to hear someone tell me that? How I've prayed to the heavens for him to see what a phony I am? It's too much at once, I tell you! "You play one really well, but after everything you've shown me, I can't believe that's what you're really like." Mission accomplished. He can see more for more than I am! I feel like I'm going to cry!

"We still have today Arnold. Let's just. . .go from there, for now." I can't believe I'm doing this. I must be completely out of my mind. I slide both my legs way to the left, then move the rest of my body over, gesturing to the empty space I've just made to my right. "Climb up. I won't bite." Not that I don't want to nibble on your ears. He's giving me far too uncertain a look for my taste. "Come on, I'm not eating all this bad food by myself, Hair Boy."

"Okay." He smiles hesitantly at me, trying to maneuver his way onto the bed. All sorts of built-in obstacles getting in the way. I watch in bemusement as I swallow a piece of what Hillwood Hospital presumably refers to as sausage. I can tell that it's made from soy, because it sucks.

I notice his smile turning to one of accomplishment as he finally settles in next to me, sitting upward and looking over our plate as he kicks his shoes off with his feet. "So, what would Tall Hair Boy say if he could see you now?"

His whole face is taking on a fearful look, like he's been caught with his hand inside the cookie jar. "Don't remind me! He'd never look at me the same way again." Funny, no one would look at me the same way either. Except Phoebe.

"The funny thing is, Arnold, I've run the scenarios for you and me about a thousand times. And you know what? Not one of them was anything like this." Ain't that the truth? Funny how it's never the stuff you plan for that gets you. It's always something out of left field you couldn't possibly anticipate.

"The best made plans of mice and men don't' always work out." Nice try Football Head.

"The best laid plans of mice and men go oft awry." I corrected with a smirk. "But Steinbeck was a hack. Don't get me wrong, that book is great, but he stole the title from Burns. The proper connotation is "The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley."

"That's pretty impressive, Helga. I didn't know you were that well-read." He's impressed? With me?!

"There's still plenty you don't know about me."

"Well, I'm glad I'm here. And I think. . .I like spending time like this, with you. So there's that."

I feel like I'm a teakettle boiling over, steam whistling through the spout in a shrill pierce. I let out a dreamy sigh, never daring to imagine I'd ever hear the kinds of things he's said to me on this wonderful, perfect morning. It took more than willpower to keep me from pinning his glorious head down and suffocating him in kisses. But I won't indulge in the fantasy, comforting as that might be. It is foolishness to think that this can continue beyond today.

Not wanting to consider the unhappy consequences of tomorrow, I cut the large hashed brown in half; proffering him one half with my outstretched fork. Accepting the food with one smooth action, I carefully withdraw the fork sans potato from his precious mouth before stabbing the second piece. Joy already upon my face, I close my lips around it fully, savoring not the flavor of my breakfast, but his indirect kiss.

I can taste him. I swear it! I can taste the sweet nectar of his soul pervading through my body. Oh, my soul, how I wish we could stay like this forever, as just a simple boy and girl, looking like a _Precious Moments _cover. If only you could understand the restraint I have to practice not to rush your lips with my own and drink for as long as it takes me to be sated. To transfer some of the fire that sets my heart ablaze, sit us in a powder keg, let the night erupt in passion! For nearly as long as I can remember, I have haunted your footsteps. But now that you're sitting beside me, I feel as though my heart will shatter. Reach out for me, my oblong-headed Adonis, and make me yours. Capture me in your arms and don't let me escape. Allow me to take shelter under the umbrella of your soul. Though I cannot bear resemblance to the girl you must dream of, I shall show you the kind of love that few could ever attempt to grasp. Hold me, my love, and read on my face the words I dare not speak for fear of mine heart being cleft in twain!

"You know, this doesn't taste so badly anymore." I smile, head still adrift in the clouds, my heart beating as thought it would rip itself out of my chest just to beat next to your own. I'm going to cry, I know it! I can't be this close to you without breaking down. I've grown so weak. I should be stronger. But I'm not. Forgive me my weakness, Arnold.

"Are you okay?" I hear him ask me, looking up at me with those eyes that I can't bear to tear myself away from. The fork drops from my hands, clattering onto the tray like the sound of a gong. "Helga?"

I can feel my fingers tracing his face, running over the contours, memorizing each feature as though I were reading Braille. Ironic that in this moment, I really do feel blind.

He's afraid. It's in those eyes of his. The eyes that have such effect on my life. Half-lidded and haunting. I've got to get it together! It's like I can feel my path giving way beneath me, pebbles falling downwards as I slip. Yet he's there to save me. I pitch forward, my head falling behind his left shoulder like that of a rag doll. His arms wrapped around my torso to catch me. A pox on these tears that render me so futile. I clench my teeth to avoid the sob. I have my pride. I take two deep breaths, the first much shakier than the second. Good. I'm okay. I can feel the worst passing.

Silently, I beg him to save me. Save me! 'Lift me up when I'm falling. Lift me up, I'm weak and I'm dying. Lift me up, I need you to hold me. Lift me up, and keep me from drowning again.' I feel as though I've stabbed myself through the heart, for I know that you would if I only asked. Funny how that's the one thing I won't do. I will rage and scream and howl just to make you look my way, but I will never ask. Because the one thing I fear more than your rejection is your pity.

"I'm sorry." I whisper with the voice of a child. If I were just a little less proud, I would nuzzle you like a small child does its mother, prompting you to hold me warm and safe in your arms until I drifted off into sleep. No, that's wrong. It's not my pride that gets in the way. It's my cowardice. "I just. . .lost myself for a moment there."

"I know how you feel." His calming words and easing look massage my tortured soul, putting out the fire of my self-hatred like the smooth caress of a candle snuffer over a flame.

"I'm okay, really I am." That's why I haven't let go of you yet. You look into my eyes, and you know I'm lying to you. I don't want to let go of you. Is that okay?

"I'm glad." You always let me lie to you. And you never give up on me. Why do I remain so determined not to tell you? Reluctantly, I pull back to rely on my own support. That's a mistake. I suck at taking care of myself, and I don't have anyone else to do it.

Is it enough to be liked by you? Why am I so fixated on the hope that one day you might _like me _like me? I can survive knowing that you at least care. It doesn't have to be all or nothing, does it?

Doi! There's a stupid question. Of course it does! I've committed every resource I have to making you and me a reality. And if I wasn't so busy sabotaging myself, we'd probably be deciding on names for our children or the style and color of the house we'll someday build together by now. But the best I've managed to accomplish after all this time is driving your affections towards Lila!

There's a hunch on the look in your eyes. You're working something out in that magnificent mind of yours. I push the tray of food away, swiveling it so that it hangs perpendicularly to my drip. Who can eat at a time like this, anyway? There's a flash in your eyes, and a pastel swirl loops around your fingers, snatched from the table. "We should get you ready to go, Helga. They're going to discharge you soon."

"Yeah, so? What's the big deal, Arnoldo?"

"You should look your best. Your family will come to pick you up." He obviously doesn't know my family at all. I'll probably have to take the bus home. Bob will be at his shop and Miriam will be passed out. Then I'll get to make myself a dinner of stale taco shells and whatever's in the refrigerator that hasn't yet turned to penicillin before going to bed.

"I wouldn't count on it, Arnold. They don't care." I wish I were exaggerating.

"Don't say that, Helga. C'mon, at least make the effort."

"You've got to be kidding me! I can't even remember the last time I bathed!"

Arnold blinks at me like my neck is growing another head. "Your bathroom. . .has a shower, Helga."

"I know that! Criminey! Do you think I want to use it?! I was about to the other day, until I looked at it and thought of all the people who used it and are dead now. Some of them probably died in it! And you want me to stand in there all naked and…ugh, that's just not going to happen, Football Head!" Perfect. Now he's laughing at me. You're really batting a thousand this morning, Helga Old Girl.

"You know," he smiles, "I may never look at a hotel bathroom the same way again." I wish this were a hotel. No way could I rate it more than one star. Well, maybe two, if there were more meals like the one Dr. Bliss brought me the other night.

"I'm going to take such a long bath when I get home. . ." I can almost feel it now. I could really use something to wash my troubles away. Because I sure have a lot of them. I sit upright and roll my eyes. If I'm not careful, I'm going to start talking about my bathing habits. Now there's a whole new world of awkward! "So. . ."

"Let's fix your hair." He nods. If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. I can feel his hands running through my hair like a fantasy as he tries to arrange it. The sensation is beyond wonderful. Again my resolve threatens to crack, knowing all I have to do is turn around and we'll be in a lip lock. It doesn't matter whether or not either of us admits it. I'm not a fool. He's flirting with me. Worse, he's flirting with disaster. And all I can think about is how greasy and grimy my hair must feel to his touch.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" I ask in a tone that doesn't sound nearly as annoyed as I'd intended it to. What's wrong with me?

"Not really. I'm just kind of making it up as I go along." Arnold shrugs, hoisting himself up onto his knees as he still struggles to tie my hair in its trademark fashion. He doesn't stand a chance, and I'd berate him for it if I didn't find it so cute. Not to mention the nigh-orgasmic feelings that emanate from his manipulation of my tresses.

This is how I always wanted it to be, with fun, laughter. The sun shines upon my innermost being and it's a good day to be alive. I hear voices getting louder and the door being opened, and the last thing I can think of before whoever it is barges in is that I'll never be able to explain or live this down for years to come.

The huffing sound of a deep breath, and the voice I've dreaded for all the years of my life threatens to make my ears bleed, my heart stop. This can't be happening. THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING! "Baby Sister!" I hear her squeal in that sing-song voice. I sit mouth agape, strands of my hair being played with by Arnold as my horrific older sister comes through to ruin my life once again. If he were still alive, I'd put a curse on that Robert Burns. He was absolutely correct. The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.

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Well, I'm pretty darn pleased with this chapter, lads and lassies. A lot of hard work went into it. I placed more than one customer on hold while writing at work, sometimes while they were rambling on, something came to me that just had to get written down. I know, I know, I'm bad. But remember, you're reaping the benefits!

What I'm most excited about right now is I've finally forged an ending that I'm satisfied with, and I'm hoping you will be as well. Again, the story isn't done yet, but all the pieces are definitely falling into place. It's puzzling out the rest of Sunday (story time) that will be the most difficult part for me. Everything else should be a snap.

Some of you have really stuck with me through thick and thin on this story, offering invaluable (and occasionally not-so valuable) advice, instant feedback, and sometimes even a review to reassure my fragile ego that I'm not wasting my time with my project. It's a constant joy to me to see that I've managed to hold people's attention that long, and that this story has evolved so much from choppy emotional blocks strung together into some kind of tapestry. I like to think that this story and I have grown together over the past month, and you have all been so warm, thoughtful, and encouraging. None of it would have been possible without the early reassurance that I had done something right.

So, as I'm sure you've all noticed, I've introduced the amazing Olga Pataki into the story. There are a variety of reasons, but I'm really looking forward to doing some work with her. Throughout the series, we only get to see the girl through Helga-colored glasses, so I'm hoping that I'll be able to shed some more light on her. Or at the very least, give Helga something else to angst over.

As I said before, I have a good feeling about this chapter, but I'd still like to be proven right. Or heaven forbid, wrong. You know where this is coming. Send me your feedback. Write a review. Drop an e-mail. Consult me on AIM. Send a carrier pigeon. Make smoke signals. Whatever floats your boat. Copies of the commentary are still available. Contact me directly or express your interest in a review and I will e-mail it to you ASAP. Commentaries for chapters 2 and on will be generated as soon as I finish the story. Rest assured that writing the commentary takes far less time than an actual chapter of the story. Unless, of course, my co-commentators are lazy. See you next time!

As always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

10/13/04

4:01AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26


	14. Blood Is Thicker

The Sweet Hereafter: Blood Is Thicker

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Part XXXI: Family Ties

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_"Hey, are you lonely?  
Has summer gone so slowly?  
We found the ground  
And that damage was done  
It's cold as you fade into the sun  
Where'd you go? To me?  
  
But you're alive!  
Well, it's only  
Fallen frames, they told me  
You stand out, it's so loud  
And so what if it is?  
It's cold as you face into the wind  
Where'd it go to? Tonight the sun shall see its light  
  
So what if you catch me,  
Where would we land?  
In somebody's life  
For taking his hands  
Sing to me hope as she's  
Thrown on the sand  
All of our work  
Is rated again  
Where to go ?"_

--Remy Zero

"Fair"

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The Amazing Olga Pataki is standing before me, making me feel small and insignificant. She always does that. I have to fight for enough attention as it is, with her here, I might as well curl up into a ball. Even Arnold can't stop looking at her. Who can blame him? She's not just beautiful, she's gorgeous. I don't begrudge her that, but you'd think she could've left a little for me! She didn't stop there either. Not only does Olga possess the face that launched a thousand ships, and curves in all the right places to go with it, but her talents are never ending! Wherever she goes, whatever she does, she conquers. It shames me that the person who probably gives me the most recognition is Simmons. But those aren't the things about her that drive me crazy. Her disposition is sunnier than Lila's. My parents must've filled her head with that "sugar and spice and everything nice" crap when she was little. And she keeps trying to bond with me! She drives me insane! If I were hard-pressed to admit it, the truth is that I have a lot of respect for Olga. Don't get me wrong, I can't stand her most of the time, but. . .she's still my sister. And I can't blame her for everything. My parents deserve a large part of that.

So here she is, in all her glory. How unfair is it that Arnold has trouble resisting older women? All she's done is walk in here and greet me with a smile, and I feel such hostility rising up in my chest. It's got to be this stupid gown, this bed. I feel small and weak, like I can't protect myself. I can still feel Arnold's hands working my hair softly. His fingertips brushing it backwards now, a massaging motion across my scalp that I really need to help me steady myself. I lean my head back, involuntarily drawn to the comfort, presenting him with a larger area to work with. It's not much, but it will do. If only he weren't behind me, I know that I would be clutching him tightly to me by now. Perhaps that's a good thing. It's appalling how clingy and desperate I feel, but I feel as though my senses are tingling, warning me not to let her take him away from me. What choice do I have? My store is so small, my winter so long. I have to protect the things that I have. Holding a pillow in my hands, I squeeze the ends together. God in heaven, if you really are up there, don't let her bring out the worst in me this time. I need to do better for him, for me. Find my salvation. Present him with some reason to trust me. I can feel my teeth grinding as the scent of Olga's perfume journeys upwards through my nostrils. Sometimes I feel like she stands for everything in life that I'm against.

"Hi Olga." I plaster a fake smile on my face, wondering if she can see through it.

"Oh, Helga! I'm just so happy to see you!" She practically runs to my bedside, throwing her arms around me. Her grip is such that I feel like I'm being squeezed in a vice. Does she even realize she's crowding poor Arnold out?

"Hi, Olga." I say non-committally.

"I've been trying to come all weekend! But Dr. Bliss wouldn't let me!" Thanks, doc. You have no idea how much that means to me! I can see tears welling up in Olga's eyes, and I giver the weakest hugs back, hoping she'll buy my recuperation as an excuse.

"Yeah, she hasn't let too many people in. Just a few of my classmates." Hopefully the room doesn't show too many signs of yesterday's party.

"Oh of course, Baby Sister! How rude of me! Who's your little friend?"

"I'm Arnold." He grins sheepishly, looking upon Helen of Troy's descendent.

"Oh, that's right! I remember tutoring you back when I was assisting Mr. Simmons at your school. How are you, Arnold?"

"I'm well. And your sister's getting better too." I can feel the smile he's giving her drilling into me. If I'm not careful, I'm going to start seeing red.

"Oh, but of course!" Why does she always sound like she's singing? "You're very kind to take such good care of Helga!" Yes, yes he is. Now go away so he can get back to it!

"She's no trouble at all." Arnold says quietly. You're such a liar, Arnoldo. I make it a habit to be as giant thorn in people's sides.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" Yes, yes you are. You're a third wheel, sis, so beat it! There isn't enough time left for me to waste it with you!

"No." Arnold says, smiling again. For her! How dare he smile for her! This is another freaking nightmare made reality! "We're glad to have you." NO!

"Good morning." This voice must belong to the person who let her in to begin with. Ah yes, the good doctor. She gives me the time alone I leave with Arnold, then lets my evil sister in her just when it's getting good. Thank you and screw you.

"Dr. Bliss!" Both Olga and Arnold say animatedly.

"I see you've all gotten reacquainted." I don't like that look she's giving Arnold and I. Something between coyness and worry. You're all determined to take this moment away from us, aren't you? What's the use? The mood has been shot to heck, anyway. The sweeping of Arnold's fingers through my hair has been diminished to just a slow circle. I don't blame him for trying to hide it. "How are you this morning, Helga?" Absolutely wonderful, until you got here. Now everything I touch is turning to crap, same as usual.

"I'm feeling better. We were just, um, sharing a little breakfast." Anyone who buys that explanation at face value is pretty dense.

"That's so sweet!" Olga says, sniffling. Case in point.

"I see." Dr. Bliss said. "Well, I don't want to interrupt. Helga, I'm sure you and your sister have a lot to talk about." Don't encourage her! The sooner she leaves, the better!

"Dr. Bliss, can I see you for a few minutes?" I heard him speak up. What?! No, Arnold, don't leave me alone with her! Please!

"Certainly. Will you girls be okay by yourselves?" I'm sure we'll be fine. I can always use the tube from my drip to strangle her anyway, so no worries.

"We'll be fine, doc." I say, lying to everyone. I won't be fine. I want him to stay. Guess I have to learn to take care of my own problems again. Funny, it never felt so hard before. I can feel Arnold reluctantly let go of my hair, and I lift myself forwards, giving him the room he needs to get off the bed.

"I'll see you later, Helga." He says. I wonder if he can see the pleading in my eyes.

"Later, Hair Boy." Never let on too much, that's me. He walks out, leaving me alone with my sister, and my head hits the pillow. I contemplate smothering myself with it, but I simply don't have the strength. That coy look Olga bestowed upon him as he left is pushing me to my limit.

Olga turns towards me, and it's too late now that I realize I've become her captive. "Helga, I've just been so worried about you! When Mummy told me about how you had been hospitalized, I just couldn't stop crying. I couldn't bear the thought of my baby sister trapped in a coma!" She wraps her arms around me and turns on the waterworks like I'm dying. If squeezes me any tighter, she's going to wind up with a soy sausage running down her shoulder.

"It's okay, Olga. I'm fine, really. There's nothing to worry about. They're even supposed to let me out of here today."

Olga nods at me, stroking my hair maternally, taking little clumps between her thumb and forefinger and running them through the length of my matted blonde strands. It's nothing like when Arnold was playing with my hair, yet it's strangely comforting. This is beyond weird, because Olga usually sets me on edge like there's no tomorrow.

At that moment, it dawned on me that Olga was the first member of my family to show any concern for my current situation. Had Bob and Miriam sent her along as some kind of surrogate parent? Yeah, that would be exactly like Bob. He had been told that I'm doing fine, so he saw no need to take time out of his schedule to check up on me. And Miriam, well, she's probably long since passed out. She might not even remember I'm in the hospital. So what difference did it make if Olga was filling in? As much as she makes me want to claw my eyes out, she's the closest thing to a real family I have. And that is so depressing, I think I'm going to cry.

"I didn't know you'd made a new friend." Olga smiled.

"Well, to be honest, I didn't either. It's. . .it's really complicated, Olga." And I really don't want to discuss him with you. You know far too much about me already. "How long are you here for?"

"As long as it takes for my dear baby sister to recover from her ordeal." She says it with such joy and conviction. Criminey! By Olga's standards, it could take weeks for me to be recovered! Oh, death, where is thy sting? "I'm sure it will give us lots of time to grow close to one another, Helga. I just want to make things right with you." Good. But how can I miss you if you won't go away?

"Look, Olga, I. . .I really don't like spending time with you. I know how hearing that must make you feel, but the truth is, we're just very different people, and whenever people see us together, it's like all of a sudden I'm expected to live up to your legends, moreso than usual. So I guess what I'm saying is, the farther away you are, the easier it is for me to have. . .well, good feelings about you."

Olga looks so crushed. I'm sorry, sis. But it's the truth. I don't really hate you. But I just can't co-exist with you. I'll only end up dragging you down in the end. I don't want to be a brick to you. "I understand why you may feel like that Helga, but please give me the chance to prove to you that I can be your sister without being in your way."

"How?"

"Just listen to me, Baby Sister. Do you know where I was when I found out you had been hospitalized?"

"Not really." I rolled my eyes. This was going to get weird, no two ways about it.

"I was in my philosophy class, learning about the different ways that different people view the world. And then I get a phone call and find out that my dear sibling Helga has slipped into a coma. And it was like all of the philosophy I had absorbed over the past few months came together into one. I realized how much time we'd lost that we couldn't ever get back. We only get one life, Helga, and we have to make the most of it while it's here. I want you in mine."

I hate it when she gets like this. It's impossible for me to deny her, and I'll end up spending days with her until I pick up a kitchen knife and cut her heart out. Isn't it some kind of sick joke that you can't pick your family? You get to choose your friends and lovers, but you get the big screw when it comes to parents and siblings. Something about that just seems wrong to me. Then again, I didn't exactly get born into the best of families. How does Olga manage to be so perfect? It's like she's a flower that grew out of a pot of dirt.

"Okay," I tell her, instantly knowing I'll regret it. I don't know what I'm thinking. Maybe it's my own way of trying to admit that I wish things were better, even though I already know this is the best we can hope for. She throws her arms around me again, and I know that I'm done for. I've really got to learn to stand up to her. But I guess blood is thicker than other stuff. A small part of me wants to believe that we really can make it work this time. Somehow, I doubt it, but I'll keep hoping anyway. I mean, really, what have I got to lose?

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Arnold and Dr. Bliss sat in a lounge with the TV volume low, both having sunk into comfortable chairs and each sipping from a cup full of hot chocolate.

"I see you've been busy." The doctor stated patiently.

"Promises to keep." Arnold shrugged.

"And miles to go before you sleep?" Dr. Bliss asked.

"Something like that."

"All right. So tell me, where are you going now?"

"I haven't really decided. I'm waiting for Helga to give me some sort of indication what she's looking for."

"And what do you think that she wants?"

"I'm not sure. I've tried to tread lightly with her, as you suggested, but I seem to keep getting pulled into her gravity field."

"So you would say she's definitely exerting her influence over you?"

"No two ways about it. At first I was a little afraid of it, but now I'm starting to feel like the excitement. Around her, you never know what's going to happen next."

"Moths are drawn to flames in much the same way, Arnold. But if you fly too close, you'll catch fire."

"Don't I know it. But what I don't know is how to handle myself anymore. I've had a lot of bad experiences with women. So I guess I've kind of backed off from the whole concept, given myself time to heal and regroup. And Helga, well, it's like. . .she's-"

"She's not exactly the kind of girl you could see yourself with." The doctor finished with a smirk on her face.

"Right! Exactly! But now it's like, that's changing, and I'm not sure how to handle it. Part of me is saying I should run the other way, while the other part is telling me I need to stay and see how this plays out."

"Well then, I don't think you have much to worry about. Where members of the opposite sex are involved, you'll probably always feel that way. That's normal. The lesson to be learned from this is that the ideal significant other that we all dream of is really just an idea. Whomever you end up with in life, she will probably turn out to be nothing like you envisioned. I would not consider this a bad thing. Surprises have always been one of my favorite parts of life. Well, the good surprises, anyway."

"So what's your advice, Dr. Bliss? What do you think I should do?"

"Well, Arnold, I would counsel you based on the needs of my patient. She needs someone to stand by her, and I think you fit the bill, but you shouldn't do it if you don't want to. It will definitely be a difficult job. She can be pretty inhospitable."

"That I'm used to. But ever since she woke up, she's been mostly kind to me."

"Sometimes all we need is a little reminder to kick start us on life in general. She has a lot to deal with in her life, a lot to sort out. But she seems to be drawing some kind of strength from you. I don't know if you've noticed, but she seems to look much healthier whenever you're around. I'd say you should wait it out and see what happens."

"Thanks Dr. Bliss. We'll do it your way."

"Sure thing. Just don't forget, if she lashes out at you, remember she's trying to punish herself, not you." Arnold shrugged. So far, things had been going great. But Arnold couldn't help but remember that it always seemed to rain on days when he hadn't brought his umbrella.

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This is going to have to do it right here. I know it's not much, but it's late and I'm tired, and it's time for a new chapter. Hopefully I can make my way through these author's notes without falling apart!

First off, a shout out to Rachael West for catching both the Garden State reference and the song reference. A lot of the story is influenced by Garden State, and I'm pleased you noticed. Want to see something really neat? One of the major roles in Garden State is played by Ian Holm. Ian Holm once starred in an independent film called "The Sweet Hereafter." Coincidence?

I was really, really tired when I was finishing this chapter, to the point where I couldn't keep my eyes open. So if the Arnold/Dr. Bliss scene feels a little sub par, well, now you know why. I was just too damn tired to carry on. I apologize for that, you all deserve better, but it's going to happen every now and then. I'll try to make the next chapter better, but this one was just a victim of weather pattern changes wreaking havoc on my circadian rhythm.

Anyway, look for the next chapter soon! I think Helga will finally emerge from the hospital in that one! I think. Who knows?! But I'm sure I'll see you there.

Okay, I'm getting silly and punchy. Time to make my exit. Please send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

10/19/04

5:23AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile 26


	15. Bad Timing

The Sweet Hereafter: Bad Timing

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Part XXXII: And So It Goes

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_"People come up and say Hello. Okay. I can get to the front of the line, but you have to ignore the looks. And…yet…I'm waiting for that feeling of contentment. That ease at night when you put your head down and the rhythms slow to sleep. My head sways and eyes start awake. I'm there not halfway between sleep and death but looking into eyes wide open. Trying to remember. . .what I might have done. Should've done…I need serenity. I need peace. It hasn't happened yet."_

--William Shatner

"It Hasn't Happened Yet"

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Modern myth teaches us that 'twas an apple which caused man, woman, and the world we live upon to be placed under a curse. I'm beginning to believe in it. I'm having one of those live where everything I touch turns to crap. Still, I hold out hope that I can be saved. Every time I look at him, I'm reminded that there is good in this world. Is that what makes my soar? The hope that he might make me better than I am? That he will somehow save me? That despite everything I have done to sabotage any hope of redemption, he may yet see something within me? The pit in my stomach opens wide and deep, because I know I will resist him if he does come to pick me up from this wretched existence I am eking out. How do I come to fight against what I most desire? Do I want to be destroyed? Am I seeking out some way to punish myself for all the mistakes I've made in life? Are my inner demons determined to drive me into the fetal position? Shall I lie down and die, or should I fight back against myself. Seize control of my aggressive side and use it to confront my true desires?

No. Because I am a coward. I can't take any chances no matter how great the reward might be. Mayhaps this is my opportunity to get it right. I must be nearly out of them by now. But what course shall I follow? Should I be pressing my element of surprise? Enthralling him with the remembrances of unexpected soft lips and stiff matted hair, a quiet soul full of yearning? Prove once and for all that I am more than I let on. That he was right about me? I'm running out of time. And even if he now knows the truth, it doesn't mean anything until I tell him myself, does it?

Olga's voice as she sings in tandem with Vanessa Carlton is a little eerie. She does it was such passion, causing me to wonder where I get it from. Miriam may not have amounted to much in life, but since I'm stuck being a Pataki, I'd like to think I have a little of her in me. Being just another version of Bob is a disappointment I'm not yet ready to cope with. Every little thing I can get on my side will help. No wonder dad and I don't talk. I guess Olga is the closest thing I get when it comes to guidance. No wonder I'm so screwed up.

"If I could just see you. . .if I could just hold you. . . . .tonight. . . ." Olga raises her arms to the ceiling with perfect poise. Barring the con artist, how could she not have found herself a husband by now? What's wrong? Having beauty, grace, and talent doesn't give you an edge anymore? I wish she would find someone to settle down with. Then maybe she wouldn't come home so often and I could sleep a little easier at night.

"Gee, Olga, you belted that out like you were on stage." I rolled my eyes.

"But Baby Sister, I'm always on stage." Olga winks. I lift my head up towards the heavens, shaking it back and forth. The worst part about what she said is true. I guess that's what keeps me from losing all my patience with her. Because as much fun as it is to dream up ways to make her suffer, perhaps it's true that a part of her is always crying inside. Maybe I could bring myself to feel sorry for her. Unfortunately, I don't have much of a conscience anymore.

Our reverie was interrupted by a voice coming from the radio. "And this one goes out to Tish, a guy named Tino wants you to know you're missed while you're away. Here's Billy Joel. Hey Yowwzzzaa!"

"Yowza to him too." Arnold chuckled as he walked in the room, tossing a paper cup into the garbage.

I silenced him with a look neither fierce nor gentle after hearing the first piano notes come through the speaker. Who gives a flip about Tony or Trish, this is my song! I copied these words onto the inside of the fifth volume of my poetry collections.

_In every heart, there is a room_

_A sanctuary safe and strong_

_To heal the wound from lovers past_

_Until a new one comes along_

I dragged my IV to the chair sitting next to the radio, plunking myself into it. I heard Olga call my name, but I shushed her as well, leaning my head back, thumbing the volume up on the radio and shutting my eyes to block out any distractions.

_I spoke to you, in cautious tones_

_You answered me with no pretense_

_And still I feel I've said too much_

_My silence is my self-defense_

_And every time I've held a rose_

_It seems I only felt the thorns_

_And so it goes, and so it goes_

_And so will you soon, I suppose_

Was that my voice I could hear, softly speaking the words in tune to the music? Now this is poetry. And I don't care who knows it. My sister had fallen into step and was quietly singing herself. I wasn't angry about that. Her voice mercifully drowned out my own. Thank heaven for small favors.

_But if my silence made you leave_

_Then that would be my worst mistake_

_So I will share this room with you_

_And you can have this heart to break_

Sometimes words can hit a little too close to home. I open my right eye and steal al look at Arnold. He's facing the window, standing quietly, head help up towards the skyline. A pity I have no idea what he's thinking about right now. I'd give a lot more than two cents to know, that's for sure.

_And this is why my eyes are closed_

_It's just as well from what I've seen_

_And so it goes, and so it goes_

_And you're the only one who knows_

Love is a really curious thing, we have no way of controlling how or when it hits. If I'm not a perfect example, I don't know what is. Love is just something we have to blindly trust, even though it can lead us into danger. Many a quiet, rainy Friday night I have stayed huddled in my darkened room, questioning my heart and if I were truly on the right path. Can you blame me? Someone my age should not have the intense feelings I do. Love, hate, jealousy, fear. . .they all attack me ferociously from all sides. The explanation that I keep coming back to is that I was forced to speed up my own emotional development or spend my live crying over how unfair everything is. That's not my style. When life hands you lemons, throw them at the people that piss you off, that's my motto. The house I live in is cold, and I refuse to be delicate. Too bad it hasn't saved me from becoming brittle.

The long and short of it is, I need someone who won't let me down. And Arnold has never failed me. No matter what I do to him, he's always right there to help me up when I fall. Now if I could only train myself not to slap the hand away, I could get something going. While no one is perfect, and while I know someday he is going to disappoint me, it's still a much better track record than Bob and Miriam can offer. They'd never admit it to me, but I'm certain I have always been a big surprise to them. Maybe I was never meant to exist. You'd probably think that really gets me angry, but the thought actually gives me a lot of strength. I came through against the odds, and I've survived this far on my own. I try to focus in on that when I just feel I can't take things anymore, and suddenly, I feel more alive. It's one of the few things about myself I don't hate, one of those undeniable positive traits that even I can't destroy.

_So I would choose to be with you_

_That's if the choice were mine to make_

_But you can make decisions too_

_And you can have this heart to break_

Damn me to hell if that's not exactly how I feel. But I just won't say it. No matter how hard I try, in the end I just end up plunging the knife deeper into my chest. Why am I so determined to leave myself miserable? I've never been this close to having it all before, and I can hear my sick and twisted little mind hatching schemes to once more deprive me of it all. 'Who will rescue me from this body of death?' The Apostle Paul once asked. It's been a long time since I've been to church, I'm certainly no holy roller, but I know what he must've been feeling. The urge to jump up and bang my head against the wall is overpowering, and the only thing keeping me from fracturing my skull is the fact that Arnold and Olga will think I'm crazier than they already do. It wouldn't be that far from the truth.

_And so it goes, and so it goes_

_And you're the only one who knows_

Slowly, I open my eyes, hastily turning the radio off as the voice of the worlds most annoying deejay comes back on. Arnold is looking at me intently. Even Olga's gaze meets mine. Are they really so shocked? "What're you looking at, Football Head?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all." He turns away from me like a child about to be punished. As well he should. Criminey, I've got to time these things better."

"Helga. . ." Olga kneels beside my chair, basking in the afterglow. "That was just so beautiful." If she cries any harder, her tears are going to turn into waterfalls. Her mascara is already running. That's it. There's only so much of this crap I can take. I stand up, gripping the metal stand next to me so hard that it rattles. I stare down both of the both of them, my eyes darting back and forth like one of those cat clocks with the moving eyes and tail. And then I storm out of there, desperate to get some air and a little space. They just don't get it.

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Part XXXIII: One Step Over The Line

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_"So back off your rules  
Back off your jive  
'Cause I'm sick of not living  
Just stayin' alive  
Leave me alone  
I'm not asking a lot  
I don't want to be controlled  
It's all I want  
It's all I want  
It's all I want  
It's all I want"_

--The Offspring

"All I Want"

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I've been here before. I remember laughing. What was I thinking? I've nothing left to laugh about. Everything right is wrong again. I press my forehead against the glass, chilled with the heat from outside. It feels surprisingly good. But still I have to fight the urge to cry. I think I'm going out of my mind. Somebody please help me. I don't even know who I am anymore, what I'm becoming. But every second that goes by now is another I've lost. Time, time, time. It just isn't on my side. If only I could stop the world from turning, give myself more time to get things right. But I just can't do it. I can't do anything. I surrender already. Just make it stop! I feel so nauseous, but I can't let anyone know, or they'll never let me out of here.

Would that be a bad thing? I could buy myself more time if I stayed, keep myself purer. I could see him everyday, no consequences. Maybe that's not quite reality. Maybe I don't care. I just want it all to end. I want to know who I am, what I'm supposed to do.

My palms press flatly against the glass, leaving marks in the condensation. The window is so wide, this hallway so quiet and empty. And yet, I feel as though these walls are closing in on me, determined to crush my heart and soul. Perhaps that would be accurate, but I fear there isn't much left of me to break.

My left fist clenches and I raise it up, and I'm only able to stop it mere milliseconds before I would've swung with all my might. The heck with it, his arms around my waist just feel too good to pass up. I shouldn't let it pass with him, shouldn't allow myself the reward or the comfort, but it's far too late to stop now.

"It'll be okay, Helga." Arnold. Always Arnold. Sweet of him to try and reassure me at a time like this.

"No it won't!" I yell at him, causing him to hold on a little tighter. I stamp my right foot, annoyed beyond measure that I can't get him to give up on me.

"Sure it will. You can get out of here, get some fresh air, go back home where you belong."

"I don't want to go home."

"Then would you rather stay here for a few more days?"

"No." Great. Now he's laughing at me. I just don't get how he can always see the lighter, brighter side of everything.

"Okay, Helga. So what do you want?" Now there's a question, bucko. To be honest, I don't really know. And even if I could figure that out, I doubt that I'd know how to go about getting it. I'm a real mess. I mean, more than usual.

"I don't know. I've never been very good at figuring that out. Any suggestions, Arnoldo?"

"I think you should do what you really want. Not what everyone else wants." Perfect. In that case, I'm going to get a job as an actor and double as muscle for hire. We can get married and go on a world cruise, where I'll be discovered and take my show on the road. My stage partner Raul will be the cause of unbridled jealousy, and the two of you will duel in a winner take all battle to possess my unwavering heart. Hey, that's pretty good. I smell novel!

"I want to find one perfect moment in time and hold onto it, never let it go. Live in it eternally. Is that possible?"

"Probably not. But you should always strive towards your dreams." I can feel his warm smile on my back, and I can't help but turn towards him, sizing him up as though I've only just met him.

"What if you've been working so long and hard that the line between your dream and your nightmare has become blurred? What if I can't recognize it anymore."

"You can lose track of all the important things if you trust your mind to hold onto them for you, Helga. If you want to find your dream once again, start looking here." He smiled again, thumping his left fist against his heart. "The most important answers can always be found here."

"What if I can't trust my heart?"

"Some things we just have to do on faith. And sometimes, you need a push. Your sister told me to run after you, you know."

"Olga told you to come?" Even when I try to get away from her, she's still trying to meddle!

"Yeah. And I'm glad I did."

"It's hard not to do what Olga says. She can be very persuasive." I smirked. I've got you now, bucko!

"I guess." Oh, please. Don't try to be coy with me!

"Don't think I buy it for a second, Hair Boy. She's one of the prettiest faces you'll ever see, and you know it!"

"Great set of legs too." Is he blushing? I can't believe he just said that! Of all the nerve! Is he trying to push my buttons, because it's working admirably!

"I really ought to pound you for that one." I say, trying to decide which of my two favorite fists deserves the honor. Too bad he knows I would never hit him. Shove him, mock him, humiliate him, yes. But I wouldn't hit him. Maybe he's always known that much.

"You can always kill me for it later, Helga." Be careful what you wish for, Arnold. I just might. He knew that comment would get to me, no two ways about it. He's really been pushing his luck all weekend. Hmpf. Not that I don't enjoy the banter. And the company. "Does she always bother you this much?"

I could feel myself sighing, my entire body just growing weary of having to deal with it all. "Not always, but often. Enough so that I look forward to her visits with the same anticipation I normally reserve for having a root canal."

"Do you really hate her?" Criminey! You're determined to know everything about this, aren't you?

"There are days. . ." Was all I needed to say. It was the truth. Some days I just seemed to pour all my energies into making her suffer. Not that it seemed to work very well. Maybe it isn't any real solution to my problem, but it sure makes me feel a lot better!

"Sometimes I wish I had a brother or sister. But at least the place never feels empty with so many boarders. There's always something going on where I live. I guess that makes for a warm house. I really couldn't imagine what it would be like around our dinner table without Mr. Hyunh or Mr. Potts or even Mr. and Mrs. Kokoshka. It may not be a traditional family, but it's family nonetheless." Arnold nodded.

"Well, Arnold, I can't exactly say I know much about 'traditional families," I explained, putting the phrase in quotes for him. Dysfunctional isn't a description for us, it's a lifestyle. But I think I've done pretty well for myself."

"Getting better all the time." Arnold smirked. "So you still haven't answered my question. What do you want?" The patterns in the large square tiles that made up the hallway floor suddenly became very interesting. How did they get all those white flecks into the olive green? How was each piece so perfectly cut and interlocking? I'd never done a puzzle that came out so well. If I weren't hooked up to this stupid IV, I could slide all over the floor in my socks. That's always fun. I guess there's a day coming when I won't be able to do that anymore. At least not in public. "Helga?"

When I lift my eyes to look into his own, I can't fathom how small they can look sometimes, and others, like they're large enough for me to drown in. The flecks in his eyes are not dissimilar to the very ones we're standing on. It's difficult to look away from him. Deep down, I don't really want to. I know he's trying to read me. His gaze is locked with mine, now, following me wherever I go. I could almost show him. No one would have to know but us. I can give him that peek inside me he's always tried to get, prove him right once and for all, that I'm not all bad. I know in spite of everything, he still believes that. And he's right. What good is it going to do me to deny it? But I will anyway. I'm so stupid. I'm watching myself throw away yet another opportunity, wondering which one will be the last one. I blink my eyes, refocusing my pupils on his own once more. "Can you get me out of here?"

"They should be coming by to discharge you soon, according to Dr. Bliss. You had her a little worried last night. I was worried too. But she hasn't found any real reason to keep you here for further study. They're going to give you a clean bill of health, Helga."

"Oh joy. Just what I always wanted." Why is he making this out to be such a joyous occasion? So they let me out of here and send me home. Big deal. My life just carries on as it was. Maybe I was in that coma to take a vacation from it. There's got to be some reason why the idea of going back to business as usual makes me feel so unhappy.

"I don't get it. I thought you wanted to get out of here, Helga."

"I do."

"Then why are you so down on it now that they're about to let you go?" Those eyes of his are calling me again. It's just getting harder and harder to avoid his questions.

"Because, I. . .forget it, you wouldn't understand." Maybe you would. That's what scares me so much.

"Well, you're right about that. I'll never understand if you don't help me to do that." Oh sure, cloud the issue with facts, why don't you?!

"I can't right now. I. . .have to go and pack. I'll see you in a little bit, Arnold." Masterful use of an excuse. He'd follow me, but he knows I have to get changed. You're too much of a gentleman, Arnold. It's going to be your downfall someday. Or maybe that's what you have me for.

"Helga!" Arnold calls my name. I wave him off. Sorry, but I'm just not willing to expose everything to you right now. I'm keeping some of my secrets for myself. They're one of the few things I have that are truly mine.

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Not bad for a few days' work, I feel. As I'm sure you realize, a lot of work went into this chapter, sometimes it's just very difficult to decide how something should go, or what someone is thinking. My recent shift to doing all of this in first person definitely ups the difficulty level, but it makes things easier in other ways as well. It's a tradeoff I've decided is worth a few of the extra hassles, because I believe this makes the finished product more powerful to you, the reader. And you folks are the reason why I write this story to begin with.

Athena Lionfire 16, you recently described this story as addictive. I often feel the same way from my own point of view, and I constantly feel compelled to keep going after what happens next even when I worry I don't have enough energy to do it/ I try to do some work everyday so that you wonderfully readers don't have to wait too long to find out what happens next.

Rachael West is also correct, I feel this story is largely about doing justice to the characters, but also about exploring the complexities of the relationship. Fortunately, I'm a complex kind of guy, and I enjoy watching people's relationships unfold. To me, there's not much more exciting than people being people, and I hope I've managed to capture the essence of that with this work.

I must admit, on those days where I just feel like I can't keep going, there will be that one review that drifts in, says something very encouraging and all of a sudden it's like I can walk down that road again. Most of this story is either written in between calls at work (there's never enough time between calls) or just by my staying up way past my bedtime in a stretch to get me as close to the end of the chapter as possible. Thanks for taking a few minutes to give something back. The more people that I know are reading and enjoying the story, the better I feel about myself and the time out I take to prepare another chapter for your pleasure.

And as always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

10/25/04

3:41AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26


	16. You Can Go Home Again

The Sweet Hereafter: You Can Go Home Again

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Part XXXIV: Observations From The Decline

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_"Time is the fire in which we burn."_

--Delmore Schwartz

"Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day"

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I mean no disrespect to the handicapped, but if I had to spend my life confined to a wheelchair, I can't imagine I would live a very long time. Maybe I just couldn't cope with that kind of lifestyle. No maybe about it. I just. . .need some kind of freedom. Olga walks beside me, fretting over me as though I'm an infant. Unbelievable. She goes on and on about how she wants to bond with me, yet she can't seem to grasp how much I value my independence. At least Arnold and Dr. Bliss get that. The doctor, who has admittedly become a trusted counsel, stands quietly at the top of the steps while one of the nurses eases me down the ramp in this contraption. Arnold can be pretty dense sometimes, but he's smart. He knows better than to approach a wounded animal.

So, I'm back, I guess. I'm sitting here in my predictable pink dress, hair pulled out into tails. That's right. I'm dressed to kill. Yet I feel uneasy. Like everything has changed. Only not how I wanted. I'm forced to wonder whether I'm a better person for having gone through this. For having told him. No, that's wrong. I never did tell him. And I never would have. I just slipped up. Used proxies. Anything to avoid saying it to his face. I don't have that kind of courage to do it again. But still, it was real, this time. When I kissed him, I wasn't hiding behind a part, was I?

No, that isn't possible. He was there. I could feel it! His tenderness was there to accept and shelter my vulnerability, that thing underneath everything else that makes me human. Somehow, I don't feel as appalled to show my weaknesses in front of him now. I doubt it will last. Sometimes, when he looks at me, it's as though he's looking for something. He can see right through me far too often. Is that what gives me hope? That despite how I show my affections through cruelty, he knows this isn't how I really am? Maybe all this time, I haven't been chasing a quixotic dream. He's still here. He's still looking after me. Keeping my company. Listening to my crap. Eating my breakfast. Playing with my hair. Drying my tears. Kissing my lips. Have I finally manage to achieve my heart's lone desire?

Something inside of me is trembling. Everything feels sensitive. My toes are curling, and it's as though I'm tingling from the fire in my chest all the way down to my feet. Fear? Anxiety? Anticipation? Excitement? What if I'm looking at a whole new world here? The hours I could spend wrapped around him on a sofa, half-heartedly watching TV. There's a pleasant evening. Especially if it's a couch that Miriam isn't lying behind, passed out. Well, at least she should spend more time conscious with Olga back in town.

I wonder if she's aware that Mom lives vicariously through her? It certainly takes the pressure off of me, but what hurts is that neither of my parents has any faith in my ability to succeed on my own. I'm no sap, but I sure wouldn't mind having just one dinner, as a family, that didn't dissolve into a fight. I'm not a very good daughter. I don't have very good parents. Bob and I tend to view one another as adversaries on our better days. Both of them seem as this gigantic disappointment, and I guess after Olga, I would be. I'm like the Danny Devito character from that "Twins" movie.

But you know what? I'm okay with it. I'm okay with being an accident. I'm okay with being a burden. I'm okay with the constant string of mistakes I make. I'm okay with every step I take in my stupid little life being a steep, uphill struggle. Because despite the premature demise of my childhood, I am continuing to survive and evolve. What I need know is a greater handle on what it is that I'm becoming. I do have help, though. Gotta give Pheebs credit where credit is due. And though I'm not accepting, Arnold tries to understand me, even though I never give him a reason to both. Simmons tries to build me up in my own "special" way, and he means well, irritating as he can be. Dr. Bliss has become something of a very special friend, and she helps to keep my on course. She keeps my secrets just as well as Phoebe. Sometimes I wonder if I remind her of herself, because she can't deny the fact that she has an invested interest in me, moreso than I see with some of the other kids she observes down at P.S. 118. And of course, there's Olga. My nemesis. My would-be protector. It amazes me how much being close to me means to her, yet she still doesn't really understand me at all. Is it because she grew up so differently than I have? That she could never imagine what a cold home our place has become? That my parents never take any notice of me unless it suits their own interests? I guess they aren't the parents she knows. And even though I resent the crap out of her, for some reason, I just can't bring myself to change that. I remember once she told me how she feels that I am a tremendous judge of character. Maybe she's right. What I do know is that if I disillusion her, paint a different picture of the people who raised her, it would destroy something. Curious how I've never really cared about what she feels before. Maybe I'm living through her as well. The lines get so blurry when you're as screwed up as I am. Anyway, all of them together are like my own personal support staff. Personally, I don't like the idea of needing anyone other than myself to survive, but who am I kidding? No one can make it in life on their own. I've tried that before. And I'm happier now. Don't get me wrong, I'm still not happy. But this is better.

I'm at the bottom of the ramp, and I leap out of the wheelchair, running fingers over my wrist just to prove that my IV is gone. The nurse gives me a look that indicates I won't be missed. Don't worry, sister. The feeling is mutual. As the forgettable hospital drone moves off, Olga leans in and squeezes me tightly. My nemesis. My staunchest supporter. It occurs to me that I may never be free of her. Is that that a bad thing? I just don't know anymore. Nothing makes sense like it did before I woke up here.

Extricating myself from the relentless affections of my sister, I turn to see my beloved once again drawn to the comforting lure of the enigmatic Dr. Bliss. Am I really being crazy, or have those two been spending a lot of time together lately? Criminey! What the heck am I, jealous? He's not mine. Much as I wish that would change. What does my psychiatrist have that I don't, anyway? I mean, sure she's a little older and more experienced. And she has one of those faces that make you want to confess your secrets, a voice that reassures you that everything will be okay. Oh yeah, she's also pretty and easygoing. Doi! Forget it, I don't stand a chance.

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"What am I supposed to do now, Dr. Bliss?" Arnold asked as he stood just a few steps below Helga's psychiatrist, breathing in the cool afternoon air.

"Well, that's entirely up to you, now isn't it?" The doctor responded. "I've released Helga from my care. I'll still need to see her for the next week or two, but she's an out-patient now. Besides, I think I'm leaving her in pretty good hands."

"I'm sorry about the whole breakfast incident this morning."

"Oh, I think it was pretty harmless. I haven't come across many things that manage to put a smile on Helga Pataki's face, Arnold."

"She was smiling pretty good until Olga came in. When it isn't for a cruel reason. . ."

". . .it's actually rather pretty?" Dr. Bliss finished.

"Well, yeah. She's really not so bad when she isn't acting so mean. She's nice to be around."

"Maybe if you just give her some time, Arnold, then she'll become someone you'll want to be around more often."

"I'd like that. Can I get your advice on something?"

"Certainly."

"Is Helga. . .you know her pretty well, right."

The psychiatrist giggled. "You might say it's in my job description. It's not like I know everything about her, but. . .I try to learn a little more each time we meet. I'm pleased with the progress we've made so far."

"Well, can you tell me. . .is this more what she's really like?"

"Now we're getting somewhere!" The doctor grinned. "Arnold, I think you might know the answer to that better than anyone. I'm not entirely sure if Helga knows who she is, deep down. She's probably doing a lot of soul searching right now, and unfortunately there isn't much that anyone else can do to help her out with that. She has to reach her own conclusions. But if you're looking for some confirmation, I can tell you this. You and that girl have always had a connection. And let me tell you, few people would be happier to see you together in some capacity than I. However, that's something you really have to want for yourselves. You're definitely on the right path, Arnold. It's up to you if you want to stay on it or not, just as much your decision as hers. The good thing is, you have time. Helga has you two taking the scenic route."

Arnold thought about everything she had just told him, nodding his head. She was right. They each had to make their own decisions, but there was time. As Dr. Bliss had put it, they were taking the scenic route. "In a slow car." Arnold added.

"With a flat tire." The doctor chided, giggling.

"Driven by a nun!" Arnold's chuckling had become downright volatile.

"Who is blind!" The both exploded with laughter, practically falling all over each other. It took a good minute for them to settle down, Arnold struggling to regain his composure as he felt Helga's eyes on his back. Clearing his throat, he got a handle on his giggles, only to start up again the instant he looked at Dr. Bliss' face. Both of them took a moment to let the laughter run its course, regaining their composure.

"Thanks a lot, doctor. I'll take good care of her, I promise."

"I don't doubt it." The psychiatrist responded.

Arnold bounded down the steps, stopping just to the left of Olga and earning himself a fierce look from the youngest member of the Pataki clan. Olga clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle of her own. Helga took a much different approach. "And just what did you and the good doctor have to say to each other that was so funny, Football Head?!"

Arnold flashed Helga his best smile and took her right hand in his left. "Road trips."

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The cab ride to the Pataki stronghold was tolerable to Helga for two reasons. The first reason was that Olga at least had the foresight to realize that she belonged in the front passenger seat. Her melodious voice still dominated the trip as she vocally rejoiced over the homecoming of her sibling. Helga was sitting directly behind the driver, looking intently out the window and pointedly away from both Olga and Arnold. The boy with the cornflower hair sat quietly, a good deal of his concentration focused on planning his next move. A glance to his left betrayed the trademark scowl that Helga was wearing, visible in her reflection as it bounced off the window. Yet it was her eyes that drew his attention, holding his gaze. They were filled with a deep, innate sadness, and he longed to wonder what force was causing the girl to be filled with such sorrow. As he cast his look downwards towards the section of dingy vinyl seating between them, Arnold laid eyes on the other factor that was helping Helga maintain her composure. She never had let go of his hand.

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Part XXXV: Look Homeward, Angel

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_"We would often be ashamed of our finest actions if the world understood all the motives which produced them."_

--Francois de la Rochefoucauld, _Maxims_

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The smell of home hits me in the face like a sucker punch as I step inside. Tabasco is hanging in the air. Miriam must've gone on a binge this afternoon without Olga around. Typical. It's dark and quiet. I can hear the muffled sound of the TV in the background, the only source of light save for what's spilling in from behind us on the street. Olga steps forward, hitting the light switch for the staircase and bathing us all in illumination. I'm looking at these familiar walls and ceilings, but it's as though this is the first time I've seen them. Like I've been in that coma for three years instead of three days. So why does everything smell so familiar?

Arnold's hanging back in the doorway, looking guilty. What could he possibly feel culpable for? Olga turns and smiles at him with the grace of a Greek goddess, inviting my beloved to come in. A beckoning from Olga is all it takes. I've really got to learn how he does that.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Olga asks, twining her hands together as though she's pleading with him. Clever how she does all this like he's even capable of saying no to her. If there is anyone capable of denying Olga, I haven't met them yet. Well, except maybe for me.

"Sure." His grin is far too sheepish, his cheeks are becoming much too rosy. I hope that someday I'm able to do the same thing to him, even once.

"Wunderbar!" Olga lights up with joy. "I'm going to put out such a spread for our special guest and my dear sister! It's going to be my greatest culinary achievement, just you wait and see!"

"Words fail to describe my joy." I muttered under my breath. If Olga heard it, she didn't respond, she just skipped off to the kitchen. With Olga gone, the silence resumed. The sound of the television was still coming out of the living room, random flashes of light hitting the walls. I thought of heading for the couch, but then I realized that probably wasn't the best of ideas. Arnold doesn't need to see my mother passed out. At least Bob isn't here to embarrass me as usual. I don't want to go up to my room, either. Too many secrets lay hidden in the walls. Too many things I could never begin to explain. "Alone again, naturally."

"You're home, Helga." Arnold says. Doi!

"Huzzah. Here's my hero's welcome. You can tell that they really missed me."

Arnold grew quiet. Yeah, that's right. Life isn't all about sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. It's mostly sorrow and pain. We're supposed to use the good experiences in our life to hold on through the bad ones, something for us to cling too. What a crock. I've never been able to do that. When I'm sad, I'm sad. I don't have any room in my heart for pleasant memories. I only have a small store of those to draw from, anyway. I need to be careful, use them wisely.

I walked to the staircase and sat down on the third step from the bottom, facing the foyer and the still open front door. "You can leave, if you want. I'm sure you've got better things to do then spend the few remaining shreds of your weekend here with me." I have got to be the biggest fool in the world right now. If he leaves me here alone, I won't have anything left to anchor me. I feel like I don't even know this place anymore, these people. Don't leave me.

"Not really. Besides, I told your sister that I'd stay for dinner." Okay, God. I guess you really are up there. Feeling generous today, are we? Remind me to send you my Christmas list before I go to bed.

Arnold shuts the door and then climbs the stairs, sitting himself one step above me. "Okay. So, what do you want to do? Believe me, this place is about as exciting as afternoon tea with my granny. Um, you might have to take me at my word on that one." Am I actually smiling?

"Do you want to talk? I know our conversation this morning got cut a little short." A perfect moment in my life cut down at the knees, thank you very much.

"I guess. What did you want to talk about." Yup, that's me. I always have to pretend like I don't know what's going on. Maybe that's how I deal with the reality. Or maybe I'm just a damned fool.

"Us." Arnold responded, ignoring my painfully obvious attempt to deflect the conversation from any delicate topics. Us? He wants to talk about us? Are we even an us yet?

"What's there to talk about? You're Arnold, I'm Helga." Same as it ever was. How I wish that things could be simpler. Why can't we just be a boy and a girl? Oh, right, I wouldn't have any excuses then.

"Aren't we more than that, Helga? Haven't we always been more? All of us? What about Phoebe? Is she just a name to you, or is she a person?"

"Doi, Arnoldo! Of course she's a person!"

"Good. Well, I hope that I am as well."

"On your better days, Football Head."

"Okay, good. So now what? I don't want to worry about what we were before, Helga. What are we now?" How am I supposed to answer that question? Did you ever wake up one day and feel like you have no idea what is going on in your life? Well that's me right now.

"I don't know, Arnold. I don't know anything anymore. I feel like a stranger. Or maybe I just feel like myself and I've forgotten how to tell the difference. Whatever boundaries there are between the different parts of me are all blurry right now." There's really no better way to describe it.

"Well, that's a start. I know I'm glad that I got to know you better. I always thought you were pretty okay when you weren't being so mean. And now that I have a better impression of you. . .it's like when I met you for the first time all over again. And I like you." I feel like my heart is seizing up. All my life I've strived for this. I can wait for your love, if I know that you at least like me. You have no idea how long that thought can keep me alive! Let me know that I'm finally making a difference. I swear I can wait! Just help me keep myself going.

"You're not so bad yourself, Arnold. But don't think I won't deny I ever said that in a court of law."

"That's okay. Just knowing you said it once is enough. And I'm sorry I didn't believe you before, about how it is here for you at home."

"Olga's here." I shrugged, in no mood to discuss the complexities of my relationship with Bob and Miriam. "At least we'll eat well."

"Your sister is really amazing." Arnold smiles. Funny, for some reason, that remark doesn't make me angry at all. I must be getting sick, or something. This just isn't normal. "But she still has nothing on you." I cannot live past that comment. Someone just said that Helga Pataki is better than her older sister. My heart just froze completely. They're going to have to jolt my heart pretty darn good to get me going again. Either that, or carry me out feet first. I've got to stop allowing him to get to me so easily, but my resistance to him is too far down.

"Well, you're probably the only person who believes that, bucko." The heck with it. I lean my heads backwards, and I can see the cobwebs gathering on the ceiling of our neglected staircase. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten Inge fired after all. But then I wouldn't have my needlepoint collection. Or the ability to stab myself in the index finger and not feel a thing. My head hits one of Arnold's knees and I lift myself forward a little. I can feel his eyes studying my hair once more. I really need a shower.

"You should wear your hair down, Helga. It would make it a lot easier to work with." I can feel his fingers running through each of my carefully arranged tails, taking stock of my usual hairdo.

"I keep it up like this so it's not in my face all the time. It would be pretty hard to catch a baseball if I was too busy playing with my hair."

"I guess so, but I still think you should let it down when you can. It's a good look." Criminey it's like his persistence is reaching some kind of critical mass this weekend!

"Well what are you, my hairdresser?"

"No, it's not like that. I just. . .I liked the way you looked before."

"You know I don't apologize for who I am. This is how I like to wear my hair. It's part of my personality."

"I'm not saying you should change who you are." Arnold sighs like I'm disappointing him. "What I mean is, every time I see you change it, like when we were in the school play, or when you took us out to dinner. . .it's looked great. So I just wondered why you don't do more with it?"

"You do realize you're about the last person that should be giving me advice on hairstyle."

"Hey, we're talking about you here, Helga." Oh, sure. Always an angle.

"I'll considerate it." I said, lifting my eyebrow.

"That's all I ask." Sure, Arnold. The scary part is that I'm actually considering it. Or maybe that isn't so scary. Maybe a little change would do me some good. Trouble is, I'm far too set in my ways to cope with change. Still, I'm far gone enough to allow him to keep playing with my tails, a shameless indulgence on my part. But maybe I've earned it. And if not, I'm taking it anyway.

Breakfast wasn't that long ago, it's only quarter to five now. And yet, the way he threads my hair through his fingers is like the welcome caress of a lover from long ago. My eyes are closed, but I can feel how my feet are curled even inside their shows, and I'm silently leaning further and further into the comfort. Half of my mind is scolding me for being so weak and pathetic, but in my head, it gets jumbled up with all my other thoughts. All I can really notice now is his caressing of my hair and his humming of a somehow familiar melody. When I hear his whisper, I open my eyes to find I'm staring at his, although we're in opposite directions. Of course! How could I have forgotten? "She's leaving home after living along for so many years." I hear his very quiet voice offer. Oh, you are clever, bucko. Diabolically clever. He has me right where he wants me. Another thought occurs to me, though. He has me right where I want him to.

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Okay, confession time. I've actually been sitting on this update for two days time. I've been trying to avoid releasing it at the same time the conclusion to Jaded Angel's "Dark Salvation" was due out. One thing I've learned after years in the fanfic world is to pick your release dates carefully. Generally I don't like to go up against a story that I consider better than my own, but at this point, it's been a whole week and I just can't put off an update any longer.

Somewhere along the line, this chapter got bigger than I expected. I don't consider that a bad thing. There was so much I wanted to do here, and it looks like my mission was accomplished. Most surprising of all is the realization that my story is now a lot closer to its conclusion than I had anticipated. Perhaps that isn't a bad thing. I know I wouldn't mind getting some of my free time back. Don't get me wrong, I've had just fabulous experiences with writing "The Sweet Hereafter," and I don't think I've ever had a freshman story accepted so handily before. I don't know how I'll ever than you all, especially those of you that have been with me every step of the way, both in reviews and in online support. You know who you are. I'll try to give a proper accounting when I publish the final entry.

It's been a little bit since I did a plug, but I do hope that those of you who are fans of my writing in general are reading both this and my Awakening saga. The reason I push that so hard is because down the road, both will be connected in a very important way. But perhaps I've said too much. Try to trust me on this one!

Okay, I guess I'm getting a little tired to do author's notes. I'm always tired, so what else is new? Sometimes I look back on this story and how it has evolved yet continuously carried my vision over all this time. It seems like ages ago that I released the first chapter, instead of only being six weeks. Where has it all gone? I know the updates have slowed down a little. I'm about at one a week now instead of two or three. That's just my conscious effort to sleep more, and also my own way of trying to make the story last a little longer for those of you who find it enjoyable. Thank you for reading, from the bottom of my heart. Every chapter is like a comeback chapter for me, a chance to prove that I still have it. So far, so good.

I think I'll leave on that note before I say too much and start getting fruit thrown at me. I'm still a review whore though, so give meaning to my stupid little life and let me know what you think of this work!

Send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

11/01/04

3:34AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26


	17. Food For Thought

The Sweet Hereafter: Food For Thought

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Part XXXVI: Conversation On The Incline

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_"Love is like a barren place,  
And reaching out for human faith  
It's like a journey I just don't have a map for"_

--Savage Garden

"To The Moon And Back"

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I'm not sure which scent I find more pleasant—Olga's cooking, which is like a breath of fresh air after the parade of plastic, rubber, and sand fed to me at Hillwood Hospital; or Arnold's own delicious mark, now forever etched into my sensory memory. I could spend eternity like this. Except I'd prefer to be even closer. Given the chance, I'd coil myself around him like a snake, and drink his special scent and flavor as though it were a fine wine. Am I being cautious, or cowardly? I've refrained from pulling him into another kiss. Maybe I don't want to go too fast, but what about the dangers of going too slow? Does everyone who falls in love have to go through this kind of crap? Is it too late to even kiss him again? How dangerous is my love for him? Will it destroy him? Consume him? Circle closer to the flame. Closer. . .closer. And I would ignite us both. Another thought to drive me. I've just run out of other methods. Maybe confession is the catharsis I seek. Or just an inevitability I can no longer avoid.

Maybe it comes as no surprise to him when I lean forward and flip myself over, facing him at an incline. "Hey." Hey says softly, continuing to tousle my hair as though nothing has happened. Is it any wonder why I feel about him the way that I do?

"Hey." I feed the greeting back to him, feeling the folds of my dress shift around my legs, tightening at my knees. "Talk to me about her."

"Her?" Arnold asks, cocking his head to one side.

"Lila." Criminey! I have to spell everything out for him! I really don't know why I'm asking these questions. Some things you just have to know. Even if you realize after it's too late that you might not want the answers. And then when you're faced with the harsh reality. . .you wish you hadn't pursued the truth. The folly of man and woman is far greater than most realize.

Arnold looks at me with a curious expression. Good. I enjoy being mysterious. He has no idea how crazy it makes me when he reads through me like an open book. I go through a lot of trouble to build up my defenses, and when he cuts right through them, it really scares me. I can tell from that look he's giving me that he'd love to know what I'm thinking right now. 'Bout time I finally hit him with a curve ball. "There's a lot I haven't figured out about Lila."

I can feel my eyebrow rise involuntarily. "You told me that you're not in love with her, Arnold."

"I know." He's nodding. Is that somehow supposed to make me feel more assured?

"Are you?" I press my face much closer to his own, and this is anything but a tender moment. Lifting myself up, I rise to a much more imposing height.

"No, I don't think so, Helga. But. . .whenever I see her. . .it's like I feel more complete when I'm around her. Like I've found something that I've been missing almost my whole life. That thin I'm looking for every night, when I'm lying in my bed and gazing through the skylight. . ."

"Looking up at the stars. . ." I say with complete confidence, in tune with his own beautiful voice.

"I do that every night."

"And you still haven't found it."

"No."

How am I supposed to react to this? He's getting something from Lila. Something he's not getting anywhere else, in spite of all the rejections. That's a tall order to compete with. "You still don't trust me, do you, Arnold?"

"I'm not really sure where to go. What happens to you is important to me, Helga."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"So what's the difference between Lila and me? I know you see something special in her."

"It's not easy to talk about. But when Lila talks to me. . .sometimes I feel like I'm okay. I mean, I'm usually okay, but. . .it's like she reassures me of the good in this world. There's something just really special about her. She feels like something that's missing in my life. But. . .I'm not really sure what it is, Helga. I don't have these intense feelings or anything. But I want to keep her close. Does any of that make sense?"

"I don't know. Are you saying you don't _like her_ like her?" Dare I hope that my chance still exists?

"I used to think I did. But awhile back. . .I. . ."Arnold shook his head, desperately trying to clear the images. The frightening image of Lulu still haunted him. "None of it really makes sense."

"These kinds of things usually don't, that's what I've learned. I think it's safe to say that if you're not going crazy over her, you're probably not in love." I smiled.

"Ever the expert, I see." More than you would ever know, Arnold. I could write a veritable thesis on love.

"She's probably a good target for you, Arnoldo. She's definitely you're type. Soft and pretty, sweet to a fault."

"And she's never really cared for me in that way. " Arnold sighs heavily. I push myself a bit closer, smiling impishly. I wish I knew what I was doing. "And maybe that's it, I don't know." Bingo!

"Ah, so you're the romantic type, eh?" I smirked knowingly at him.

"What?" Have I ever mentioned how good it feels for him to be the confused one instead of me?

"You've got a true to life lost cause to chase after. You want her because she's unattainable. She's made herself the ice princess on a pedestal, for you to admire but not to touch." There. That ought to put him in his place!

Arnold absorbs my words, I can almost see in his eyes how he's swirling them about, perhaps trying to get the flavor of their bouquet. He can be dense as a rock, but I love him. I'm waiting for him to share his own thoughts with me, when he just starts laughing. LAUGHING! I take it all back!

"Don't you think you're reaching just a bit, Helga?" Reaching? Reaching for what, you stupid Football Head?! I'm just calling things as I see them! Trying to get it through that oblong skull of yours that you should start considering other options. I'm sure I could pencil a date or two into my busy schedule if you'd only ask me!

"I'm ever so certain I have no idea what you're talking about, Arnold." Ha! Stick that in your mouth and chew it!

Arnold rolls his eyes, completely changing the subject and taking a much different approach than I ever expected. He grabs hold of my left hand, palming it in his own. I can feel the slight tickling sensation produced as his thumb runs over the surface of my own palm. He raises my arm high up and over my head, sizing me up once more with those beautiful eyes of his. I gulp audibly, knowing that he could forever hold me prisoner with them if he chose. And I wouldn't struggle to escape. I'm already a prisoner of love to begin with. "You're soft, Helga." The words roll off his lips and every syllable is playing a note in my ear. That's definitely a new one. I've never heard anyone describe me like that before. Usually I'm accused of being quite the opposite.

I can literally feel my face light up at that comment as I realize something. It's amazing what a little laughter can do for you. "Soft? Well, well, well. So it's true, isn't it? You've never really thought of me as a girl before, have you?"

"What are you talking about?!" I loved watching him stiffen, it wasn't often one gets to see Arnold squirm a little. "Of course you're a girl."

"A girl, yes. But you've never thought of me like this before, have you? What's the matter, Football Head? Have I slipped in under your radar?"

"What? I. . .I'm not really. . ."

"Come on, you can admit it. You were never prepared for someone like me, were you. You never expected me to show you something like this."

"Helga. . ." I listened to him whisper my name as I toyed with his hair for a change, our eyes meeting. His efforts to look away from me are unsuccessful, and I can feel the smile on my face widening. I think I've finally got him right where I want him. Finally! Yes!

"I'm going to kiss you now, Hair Boy. What are you going to do about it?"

"I-I'm not exactly sure that's a good idea. . ."

"Cute. That's what you said last time. And I think we turned out just fine." Our eyes are still locked, my smile still refusing to fade as I look down at him. I'll probably forever wonder if the light from this position gives my blonde hair a shine. I bring my face down to his, pressing my forehead lightly against his delightfully misshapen one. I can feel his breath tickling my own nose and mouth. Is this the way it's supposed to be? Reaching for his hands, my lips are hovering over his own. I reach out to create that all important connection, a dance all our own, when a sound catches my ears that makes me want to scream.

"Helga!" The unmistakable sound of Olga's voice rings out through my house. You've got to be kidding me. YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!! Twice in one day? What does she have, cameras in the wall to catch me whenever I'm trying to be amorous? I'm waiting to wake up and realize that she isn't really here, that I'm free of my nightmare. I've described Arnold as my beloved and my despair before, but maybe I should start writing poetry about Olga too. There are lots of things I could say about her if I just had the freedom.

Unable to restrain the guttural growl, I look deep into Arnold's eyes, cupping his left cheek in the palm of my hand. "Be a dear and hold that thought, would you? I'll try not to keep you waiting. . ." He looks up at me with this dazed instruction. Much as I'd love to just steal the kiss anywhere, I'm not going to. I've already learned that lesson. There's certain moments when it's meant to be, and this one has been ruined by the world famous tying of The Amazing Olga Pataki, hopefully coming soon to a home near you so she'll get out of mine!

"Um, sure thing, Helga." Did I just see him breathe a sigh of relief? Don't even think about it, bucko! You owe me, and I will be coming back to collect!

I release Arnold's cheek and gently flick his nose with my index finger before jumping up. "Baby sister! I really need your help in here!" I heard Olga yell, sounding very worried. I run off to the kitchen without looking back, helping Olga with her teetering pile of fine china. Maybe it's a good thing I'm here to help her after all. Bob sure would flip his lid if anything happened to them. Not that they'd even think of yelling at Olga. Somehow, it would be my fault.

Taking half of the pile from her, I begin setting the table, noting that Olga was getting out the wine glasses. She really was planning on a fancy dinner. I wonder if she'd let me have some wine. . .

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Part XXXVII: Thank God It's Dinner

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_"It's a wise husband who will buy his wife such fine china that she will not trust him to wash the dishes."_

--Unknown

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Olga smiles a little too happily as she sits beside the head of the table. I'm sitting across from her and one seat down. Arnold is too my right, and Miriam, conscious at last, is directly across from me. Don't ask me where Bob is, I don't know. I don't really care, either. He can take care of himself with leftover. If I see fit to leave any for him, that is. Right now, that isn't an overwhelming possibility. He and I might not have anything in common but blood, but what it have killed him to bring me some flowers? Or even just to come down and check on me? Do I have to get my sister as a proxy? Heck, at least she actually does care. Maybe that's why I've been pretty nice to her since she got here. I mean, we're not exactly bosom buddies or anything. But this is probably the best we've gotten along in some time, if not forever.

Miriam sat quietly, barely noticing that there were two guests at our table tonight. That's right, I consider my sister a guest. Often times an unwanted one. Hmm, maybe I should take back that comment about us getting along.

Arnold clears his throat and looks across the table, earning Olga's attention. Thanks, Arnoldo. You always know how to make me feel special. "So Olga, what are you studying at school this year?"

"Well, Arnold, I'm glad you're asked." Argh! There it is! Her trademark giggle. I swear, if she invites Lila to come over, I'm camping out. "I'm really trying to broaden my horizons, so I'm minoring in philosophy. There's just so many different ways to look at the world, and I want to learn about them all, find the one that suits me best. But I also have my career in mind. I know I take on too much. Daddy says I'm going to be a professional student. He's such a big silly!" She can't just answer a simple question, can she? No, she has to wind up with a two minute presentation so that by the time she gives you an answer, you've long since forgotten what the question was and care even less. Hmm, I think I just came across the reason why she hasn't found herself a husband yet. "Anyway, I've decided to try and give myself different options for when I finish school, so I'm majoring in business and psychology. Don't you think it's a good choice?"

"That sounds like a lot of work, Olga." Arnold smiles for her. Criminey, I want his smiles to be only for me! I can't take it when he looks at her with those eyes! "But I'll bet you're learning a lot. You'll certainly have a lot of different opportunities to choose from when you're finished with your education."

"Yeah, right. Business psychology." I mutter. "For five hundred bucks, she'll blow your mind."

"Did you say something, sweetie?" Oh, look. Miriam's alive. I'd alert the king, but he seems to have abdicated his throne for the evening.

"No, mom."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Helga. I think I need a smoothie."

"I'll fetch you one after dinner." Olga. Sure, sis. Give mom a drink and she'll be happy.

"Thank you. So, Andrew, welcome to our home. I'm sorry I didn't say hello earlier. I was a little indisposed." Is that what they're calling it nowadays? I prefer to call it wallowing in indifference. I try to hide my sigh of frustration. I need to focus on the positive side of things, at least until tonight is over. For his sake, I'll put on the commercial of what nice, normal lives we all live. I mean, no use in scaring him off too quickly, right? He'll have plenty of opportunities to see how screwed up we all are soon enough. If he decides to stick around, that is. No point in getting ahead of myself. I mean, if I were him, I sure as hell wouldn't want to be involved with me!

I saw Arnold open his mouth to correct Miriam about his name, but he just as quickly shut it, apparently thinking better of it. He learns fast. She wouldn't remember it anyway. It's not that she doesn't mean well, but I'm surprised she even came that close to getting his name right. "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Pataki." Olga beamed as she filled each of our plates with. . .something. It looked like a conglomeration of potatoes and vegetables. It sat next to my rib eye steak. That's weird. Olga usually likes to make obscure European dishes. What could've triggered this more simplistic take?

"I hope you enjoy the dinner. I wanted to do something fancier but it wouldn't keep and then daddy would miss out. I know this isn't much, but I hope you'll find it to your liking." Olga clasped her hands together. The way she's looking at Arnold, I expected her to get down on her knees and beg his forgiveness.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. I can tell you went to a lot of work." Arnold responded. Not that it did much to encourage her, she still kept looking at him until he began eating and nodded his approval. "This is really good, Olga. Thank you."

"Thank you so much, Arnold. Your approval means a lot to me, being a guest and all." I can't believe this! Now _she's _smiling at _him_!

"I never know what Grandma is going to cook us at home, so eating here is something of a treat." Sure, whatever you say, Arnold. Try eating here sometime when Olga isn't around. This is so unfair! She knows I could never make him a decent meal. And he's _blushing_! That's it, I can't take it anymore! She's trying to destroy me! I know it! She can't just muscle in and take the love of my life away from me!

"I can give you the recipe, if you like." If I stab at my steak any harder, I'm going to leave permanent marks on the plate.

"I'd like that." Arnold smiles, enjoying several additional mouthfuls of his food. That is it! That's the last straw!

"Well why don't you marry her if you love her so much!" I shout, throwing my fork at my plate and watching it bounce excitedly across the table.

"I'm sorry, Helga. I didn't mean to upset you." Sure you didn't, Arnold. Screw you, you're the last person I want to hear apologizing to me right now. Miriam is blinking wildly, unsure if she's supposed to be refereeing here or just keeping quiet. Please, God, let her choose the latter one.

"Why are you getting so upset, Baby Sister?!" Watching Olga tear up always sickens me. "All I wanted was to do something nice for my sister and her friend. I just wanted you both to like it."

"What?" I ask, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. It's like one of those dreams when you're in school and in your underwear. Except there's a lot less people to see me here, but I feel even more humiliated. And it's then that I realize that I've done it once again. I'm bouncing from one extreme to the other, making a fine mess of things and showing off how useless I am. It's a frightening thing when you realize how screwed up you really are. How possessive can I be? Why do I always have to read so much into everything? Why do I have to throw shadows at him all the time but never make my intentions clear. My sister is just trying to do something nice for me, and I'm right here to piss all over it for her. I turn my head towards Arnold and he looks so concerned about me. Why? How can he be so worried about me when all I do is put on these private shows for attention? I just want him to like me. That seems like so simple a concept until I try to put it into action. Every time I try to make him like me, I make things worse. What's scary is that I probably do a lot better when I just lie here and do nothing. Dear, merciful Arnold, always willing to turn the other cheek. I just don't deserve him, plain and simple.

"Are you alright, Helga?" He asks. He looks at me with such tenderness in his eyes. Olga's eyes are still full of tears. And Miriam is still blinking, looking dazed and not sure of exactly what is happening.

"I. . .I. . .I need to be excused!" I say, jumping up and bolting into the kitchen. I can hear their voices calling after me, wanting me to come back and reassure them that everything is okay but I don't see much point. It's not okay. I want to break something. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to climb up to the roof and shake my fist at the heavens. Maybe I don't really know what I want at all. The only thing I'm sure of right now is that I can't stay in that room with those people, looking at me. I can't stand being the subject of pity. I'd rather die. They all think I'm crazy, now. And they're probably right. I am certifiable. I drop to the floor, leaning against the right side of the refrigerator, crossing my arms across my chest, laughing bitterly and whispering. "And I. . .can. . .feel. . .one of my turns coming on. I. . .feel. . .cold as a razor blade, tight as a tourniquet, dry as a funeral drum. . ." I just can't do it, can I? I can't make things in my life work, even for just one night! I don't ask for much, really! Why can't I catch my happiness? Am I so bent on my own self-destruction that I'm determined to make sure I'm not saved. I don't want to believe that. There must be something good in me to make him still care enough to bother with me, for Olga to keep insisting that we bond together, for Phoebe to put up with my taking advantage of her better nature. I've got to be a better person than this, right? There's more to me, isn't there? How many times will I beg for salvation yet slap away the helping hand to get me out of this dark place? I don't want to be left naked in the dark. The lights going out, leaving me nothing but emptiness and despair. Someone tell me that there's still time, that I'm worth saving. I want to be saved, I swear it! I do want to be saved! Somebody please save me!

I curl my knees up to my chest and cough, disguising a brief whimper. Somewhere along the line I shut my eyes. I'm scared to open them. There's a scary world out there, waiting for me, determined to destroy me. But I need it. I need the world to be there, fill me with pain, let me know that I'm alive. I need to know that there's still a chance, one I squirreled away somewhere and haven't wasted yet. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out too quickly, I open my eyes, blinking twice. It's still here. Everything is just the way I left it. Torture and all. For some reason, I find that surprising. What comes as no surprise is that I can see him standing over me. He still hasn't given up on me. A lesser man would. But I would never bless a lesser man with the undying love and devotion of Helga G. Pataki. My heart is something I've guarded very carefully. I made a decision long ago to lower the draw bridge for him and only him. And every day, that decision costs me a little more.

"Helga, are you okay?" Arnold asks. Every time he does this, I have trouble believing that it's real, that he can possibly care. Okay, Helga Old Girl. This is it. Looks like my hopes may have come to fruition after all. There's still a chance. It's show time.

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And here we are. Sunday night is update night, so if you're reading this, it means we both made it through another week. Congratulations!

This chapter was a little stubborn in coming, but I think it's going to turn out okay once it's up there. I apologize for the last chapter. Don't get me wrong, I'm not ragging on the quality, but it had a lot of typos. I intend to quietly replace it with a much cleaner version. This is what happens when you don't really have anyone to pre-read your work. It's not that I don't have volunteers, just that I usually barely manage to get these things out in time for an update. Hopefully it will show up for you folks today, since FFN has an upgrade scheduled tonight. I was sure to submit it before the site went down, so I think it'll be okay. Anyway, sorry again about the typos. The most glaring one was at the end. Anyone who knows their Beatlespeak can tell you that the line Arnold was trying to say was "She's leaving home after living ALONE for so many years," not "living along." Oh well.

The good news about this update is it means I've finally made it to some really juicy stuff to come up in the next chapter. I'm also scared that the end of the story is coming so close. The positive reviews are starting to become a little overwhelming. I absolutely adore them all, and my ego wants them to never stop coming! It also makes the story even more personal, and I constantly obsess over trying to make it perfect. I can see that this story touches some of you personally, and that means the world to me. It makes me feel like I'm making a difference. And making a difference to you people is what got me in the fanfiction business to begin with. Knowing that it touches you helps me a lot through the bad times. There's so many demons I have to exorcise to write this thing correctly, and I'm forced to revisit some of the bad decisions I've made that I can't undo no matter how much I wish I could. I'm certain that must shine through as I continue to work with Helga. I don't know if that necessarily makes the story better or not, but I'm sure that time will tell.

I guess I should consider signing off before I start to ramble on for too long. I must find a way to thank all of you properly when the story draws to it's conclusion. Thanks to the new readers who keep finding my story and giving it a try, and to all you "old timers" who have been with me since I took my first shaky steps into this tapestry I've created. See you in seven days!

As always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

11/8/04

3:12 AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26


	18. Time Enough For Love

The Sweet Hereafter: Time Enough For Love

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Part XXXVIII: Hourglass

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_"She wants to meet her fate, but travel by free will  
But you can't have both and you can't stand still, still, still  
I'll be the luckiest man in the universe; _

_If cause and effect doesn't get there first  
But she keeps on looking for patterns, _

_And the world just happens_

Coz baby can't see through

_All this matter, and make up and déjà vu  
Yeah we drift here alone, with nothing to do  
Until one of us makes the other one come true  
Yeah one of us makes the other one come true  
She said 'These questions don't answer like other questions do  
So just let me be here with you…"_

--Something For Kate

"Déjà Vu"

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"You really are a masochist, aren't you?" I think my nostrils actually flared on that one. Get it together, Helga Old Girl! Talk to him like a normal human being, why don't you? This is exactly the chance you've been waiting for! I blink my eyes to refocus my vision, getting a better look at my white knight clad in a kilt. "I'm. . .sorry, okay? I know that I'm being difficult. It's one of the few things I truly excel at. Maybe I'm just being myself here."

"I brought your dinner, it's on the counter. I was hoping-" He must've gotten a better look at me, because his sentence died right in its tracks. It's amazing that he's just turned his entire weekend upside down for me. It's not as though I've ever done anything to make it worth his while. I mean, on my good days, I only insult him a few times. If I'm in rare form, I might pass him a backhanded compliment, if it's deserved. But I've never gone out of my way to do anything for him. He bends himself down to my pathetic level, proffering the plate with my meal, along with a concerned expression. "A penny for your thoughts."

"What? They're not worth more than that?"

"My mistake. Yours are priceless."

"I definitely like the sound of that. It's about time someone realized the value of my genius!"

"So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" He has a habit of switching tactics a lot. I guess that's his way of trying to keep me on my toes. I wish it didn't work so well.

"I live here, Arnoldo. Doi!" What did he take me for, some kind of idiot?

"That's not what I meant. You're in a pretty bad place right now. So are you going to let me help, or not? Because however you're currently dealing with things, it doesn't seem to be working. And staying on the path of destruction. . .I know you better. You've been down that road already, Helga. You know exactly where it leads, and there's nothing out there that can help you. I want you to walk with me on a different path."

"Why does it mean so much to you to learn more about me? Why should you even care about what happens to me? I'm just a nobody!"

"Because I don't believe that at all. And I don't believe that you are the bully that you embrace, I see what you can be, Helga. And that person is someone who has a bright future. That person is someone who knows that there is a better way. Someone who embraces her better nature, who doesn't revel in secrecy, who seeks change, who lives her life to its fullest. She's someone I'm proud to know. That's the Helga Pataki in my life.

"She doesn't sound like anyone I know." Curse him for always seeing right through me. Or bless him. I can't be sure which. And he's right. He's right, and he knows it. "You're under the impression that I have so much to offer. Why?"

"Because I like to think that I'm a reasonable judge of character, Helga. You don't have to prove to me what I already know. I'm just glad you at least let me get to know you. Because it was worth it. And I know this hasn't been the ideal weekend for you, but I was hoping that we could hang out again sometime. You know, without the hospital." Breathing is something I'm finding all too difficult. Is this it? If this is my last chance, then I need to make something of it. I need to take a stand for who I am, who I want to be. I need to acknowledge my need.

"You're right." If my heard didn't take over and speak for me , would I have sat in quiet defiance, letting my life pass me by? I reach out with my arms and am rewarded with his embrace. The heck with dinner, he's all the nourishment I need. All I've ever needed. Because when I'm in his arms, I'm a little more real. I often feel like little more than a marionette. But this. . .he makes me real. He makes me feel like I'm alive. That I'm worth something. This is my home. It's always been my home. Funny how I decided on that. I hadn't even learned to stop wetting the bed yet, but I knew that he was the one. And when I'm in his arms, I know I have my salvation. That one thing that makes my life worth living, that I can believe in, and know that everything will be all right. "Will you stay?"

"I'm sorry?" Arnold asks, sound confused. He doesn't understand. I have only myself to blame, I suppose. I should know better.

A sigh escapes my lips. I'm upset with myself for being so articulate in poetry and my own private musings, yet I can't express this to him in even the simplest terms. "Do you really enjoy my company, Football Head?"

He looks so sexy when he smiles with confidence. How could anyone resist that? How can Lila even pretend that he's not her type? It's insane! Arnold is everyone's type. He should have a parade of girls following him around. But I always do it from the shadows. "Sometimes more than others, Helga. I've always liked hanging out with you when you weren't determined to be a killjoy. It's so rare that I ever see you look happy. I know that we're very different people. . ."

". . .But we don't have to be." I finished for him. "I want to believe that, Arnold. I need to believe that. My primary focus in this life is based on that hope. That's why I want you to stay with me."

"Stay with you?"

I nodded awkwardly, lifting my head from his shoulder, but just as quickly settling back into my niche. "Yes. Every morning, ever since the incident, you've been waiting for me. When I open my eyes, you're there. That's how I want my life to be. Each day, I want it to start with you. I want to take the first steps of each new day with you at my side. Will you stay?" And there it is. My chance at happiness. At a life less ordinary. An opportunity to dig myself out of this hole. I'm swinging for the fences and loving every second of it. Wait a minute, what am I saying?! I can't really mean that! Can I? Do I really enjoy living like this? Is it better than the life of constant fear and regret that I usually live? Is this a risk worth taking? A path that I must walk in spite of the danger? I shudder to think of the spiral that I'm in danger of slipping into. A failure here could easily toss me into a maelstrom of panic and self-loathing.

"You want to turn you and me. . .into us?" Arnold asks, trying to make certain that we're on the same page. It isn't often that we are, can't say that I blame him in the slightest. That's right, bucko. It's you and me forever. Changing my last name to yours would be the crowning achievement of my life. "I. . .I don't know, Helga. I mean. . .I'm not openly against the idea or anything, but that's an awfully big change. It's a little sudden, don't you think? I don't want to ruin what we have by going too fast. We're too good for that, right?"

Deep breaths, you can do this Helga. Stand strong. Don't give in to your anger. Put a face on what is happening here. Make him see what's important. "Arnold, please. You have to listen to me. There just isn't enough time left for us. I know that I may be moving fast. But I can't waste this chance." My fingers are gripping his shoulders as though I'm hanging from a precipice. I have to be strong. "If you walk out that door, we'll lose this. Don't tell me that I'm crazy. Just believe me. I don't want to lose this, Arnold. But I can't keep this together without you. I think about facing tomorrow morning, and I know that it can't be like this unless you stay. But I know my limits, and I realize that I will deny you if you leave me to my own devices. You're my hope for a better way. Stay with me. Please." If I look closely enough, I can almost see his heartbeat, reverberating in those beautiful eyes. How I long for ours to synch up in a rhythm, a duet to be played throughout eternity. Those pupils of his are mesmerizing, grabbing hold of my attention hypnotically. He truly is irresistible.

"Helga, I just don't want to push so hard we break. We'll have time."

"No, Arnold. You have time. I don't. You don't understand what will happen if I wake up and you're not there. This is too important for me to risk. I've spent my entire life, waiting for this time. I'm going to fight for it!"

"Is this it, Helga? Is this what has had you so worked up?"

"Yes! I've been terrified of this since I woke up. Since. . .since the day I met you! You're always talking about doing more. About being better. Making myself more than I am. Well here's the opportunity! Because I see what we can be! And there is not a single, solitary doubt in my mind that together, the two of us can spin this world around, faster and harder and brighter than anyone else has ever dared. All we have to do is allow ourselves to do it. We can. Believe in us! I've lived alone for so many years. And I've decided that I like the person that I am a lot more when I'm around you. You make me a better person. You've never given up on me once, no matter how much of the darkness I would let into my soul, you never stopped believing in me. You can't do it now. This is the only thing in life that makes any sense to me."

His eyes are narrowing. He looks truly unsure of what to do. I have to get through to him. "Helga, if this really means so much to you, I think it's all the more reason why we should wait. We have to tread carefully."

All I can think about is weeping bitterly. He doesn't understand. "There isn't time, Arnold." I'm starting to sound like a broken record. "I can't go back to that life! I simply won't do it! I cannot live a handicapped existence. I will not allow you to shuttle me off to a life that denies me my chance at the stars! Without you to guide me, to be my left hand, I won't be able to pull myself back up. You're my muse in life, Arnold. You've never turned your back on me before, don't do it now. I need you to stay and fight. I need you to help me keep the Helga Pataki that loves you safe from harm. I need you to save her from herself. I can't do it without you. So I'm asking you again. Will you stay with me?"

It's only when I finally stop my rant, my desperate cry for help, that I realize how difficult that must have been for him to hear. How much information did I just throw at him? I can still feel the tears streaming down my face, I never even bothered to wipe them away. Maybe I am getting soft. Or maybe it's just his influence on me. It doesn't matter. Right now, in this very moment, I don't care who might see me like this. All that matters is the end result, in getting him to stay with me. I can handle the rest so long as he stays. Of course, I guess that's easy for me to say since there aren't any other eyes on me at the moment, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Those lovely eyes of his search me completely. I feel like his gaze is burning right through my clothes, peeling away my flesh, and trying to bore itself right into my soul. He wants to believe me. I know he does! The deepest recesses of my heart dare to hope that I can convince him. Was my speech eloquent enough? Have I conveyed the urgency? Even if I have, will he believe in me? Six years going, and he still makes my insides go wacky. Just the mere touch, yea, even the though of his touch is enough to make my heart beat out of my chest. My face gets flushed, my eyes grow distant, an every never tingles with excitement. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.

"I need you to answer something for me, Helga." I can hear the seriousness in Arnold's voice, a tone I almost never hear him use. He is taking this as seriously as I am. That surprisingly puts me at ease, somehow. Maybe it's because I know that he understands this is no simple matter to me. And if he can grasp that, if he knows how important a matter this is, how much the person I become is tied into him, then somehow, everything is going to work out okay. I don't have to believe in that, because it isn't a hope. I know it.

"Name it." For the first time in a long time, I feel confident when I'm speaking to him. I don't feel like he has the upper hand.

"If I stay with you, how will that carry over out there?" Arnold asks, pointing to the window. "What do you plan on telling Phoebe or Gerald? Not to mention the people out there who will be a lot less cordial, like Harold. If I tried to hold your hand in the lunch line, would you let me? If I asked you to a dance, would you laugh at me and tell me you hate me? What would your reactions be, Helga?"

I stumble backwards, away from him, because I realize that he's got me. Because he knows darn well what my reaction would be. I live a double life, and I keep the truth sheltered from prying eyes, only taking it out to bask in it when I'm certain that I'm alone. It's the truth. I couldn't admit the whole truth to Phoebe, and certainly not to Geraldo. I wouldn't dare give Pig Boy ammunition against me. I'd slap his hand away from mine as though it were a poisonous snake. I'd humiliate him in front of the whole school if he tried to ask me to a dance. He's absolutely right. Why is that? Now that's the question that's tough to answer. If I ever figure out that one, then maybe I'll finally win the game. "That isn't fair, Arnold. You know the answer already."

"Of course I know. I just had to know if things could be different. I don't doubt your sincerity, Helga. I'm very certain that this does mean as much to you as you say. And I like you. But you're just not ready yet, and I think you know it. There's no shame in that. We're only in fourth grade. I think what's most important is for us to be nine years old for as long as we can, because we won't be this young forever. And we'll have time to get it right when both of us are ready. That's something I have no doubt about. I just hope you can believe me."

"Arnold, I believe you. It isn't that at all. But if you walk out that door, I know what will happen to me. I know what tomorrow is going to be like, and that I'll be powerless to stop it. If you stay with me, we won't have to go through that."

"But then we won't grow. I'm happy to help you however I can, Helga. But I can't be your crutch. You have to continue to evolve on your own. You have to be that change, not me. I would be with you every step of the way. That's a promise. But the first step is one that you have to take on your own. I guess it's what you'd call a leap of faith. You can do it, I know that you can. Because you're one of the strongest people I know. Look at how much you've already survived. You don't let anything stop you, you don't let the obstacles that appear in your path slow you down for an instant. You hurdle them. You defy them. Now is the time to get out of your own way. Evolve. Embrace change. Show the world what you're made of. You've already begun. You told me that you love me. I want to believe that. I have faith in you, Helga. Maybe it's a cliché, but the power you seek isn't something that I can give you. It's something that comes from within. And I know that you won't give up on your dream."

"I want it to be our dream."

"Then fight for it."

"You have to understand what I will put us through if you take this route, Arnold. There's going to be pain." Why don't you get that? Don't you have any idea how frightened I am of destroying you? Don't you fear for yourself at all?

"I like to think that this is your chance to find a better way. I know you want things to be different. I'm not going to take you on a tour of your mistakes or your weaknesses. We all have them, you don't need the reminder. What you need to do is decide how you're going to handle them."

"This is who I am! I can't fight that! This is my life! This is all I know! It isn't much and I'm going mad but at least I can feel that!" Stop pushing me! If you're trying to make me cry you're doing everything right, and I just can't cut it!

"If this is how you intend to live out the remainder of your days, I feel sorry for you. And I know you don't want that. I don't even think you believe this is the way. Is this how you want people to look at Helga Pataki? You're not that weak and you know it. Take control of your own life, your own destiny."

I shake my head in such sorrow. I can't even cry or moan, because I feel like I'm past that. Have I settled on this life of diminished expectations? Am I so certain that this is the end for me? That this is all there is, all that I'll be remembered for? What if I don't have some greater purpose? What if the single purpose behind my existence is to complement you? Because I'd be okay with that. Do you have any idea how frightening that is? Of course not. Because you're not me. You live a confident existence. You know who you are and where you're going.

There's a quiet comfort in this meeting, despite how miserable I feel. At least we're being honest with each other. I've never been much for the truth. Lying just seems so much easier, it comes so naturally. And it carries no risk of having to offer up anything about myself. I keep the drawbridge to my heart fully locked. I don't want to risk anyone getting to know me that intimately. There's just too much danger involved, too many risks. But for you, my love. . .I want to. But I'm just not ready yet. And now I realize that even if I were, you wouldn't take me. Not as I am now.

He cares about me too much. It's so perfectly obvious. Why didn't I see that before? He doesn't want to rob me of my chance to be something more than someone who worships the ground he walks on. Now if only I could carry the same kind of confidence he does in me. "This is going to hurt." I try to put as much sincerity into my voice as possible.

Arnold nods softly at me. "I know."

I realize that here isn't really anything left for me to do, except what I was so rudely interrupted from before. "All right, we'll do it your way. But don't say I didn't warn you, Football Head. But first…" I gripped each of his shoulders tightly, making it impossible for him to get away. You're not going anywhere this time. You owe me! It comes to my total surprise that he doesn't resist me. More to the point, our lips have no trouble finding each other this time. These are the moments I live for. And there aren't enough of them. If you've never felt that longing inside, only to finally find acceptance, well, you'll never understand how good this feels. I'm completely disconnected from the physical aspect of it right now, because I'm connected to him now in a much more intimate way. Like this, it's as though I can reach out and caress his very soul. And despite how screwed up I am, I still want to wrap it up in my arms like a babe, and reassure him that everything will be okay with Helga here. Yeah, it's true. No one can love you like I can. It's the pain that I sense in you, hidden so deeply away, that delivers me such sorrow. I know that I'm a mess, but I still feel like I have to protect you. Maybe it's a maternal twinge, I just don't know. But I'm going to hold this moment in my heart for a very long time, because I don't know when the next one will come. Can he sense me the way I do him? Can he feel the sheer unadulterated love radiating off of me in waves? It's for you. Every last drop.

How long have I been standing on only one foot, my right leg curled back and up a notch? And I thought that I could lose myself in his eyes? That's nothing compared to his inner light, and the warmth of a kiss like this. This is my home. Where I belong. And I will be back to claim it.. Don't you forget it! I feel him slowly pull away, and though my heart longs for more, I have to be strong enough to let go. Opening my eyes and favoring him with a smile I have only worn in fantasies and daydreams, I plant a series of flash kisses on his delightfully plump ahead. My fingers slowly stop working the tender flesh of his shoulders, and I straighten his collar, then casually run the palms of my hands down his back, letting my fingers dig into the sweet spot, sending a shudder up his spine that makes me feel just as excited. ". . .a taste of things to come." I widen my smile, looking up to see Miriam standing in the doorway. Looks like I just can't have a moment of privacy after all.

Miriam looks at me with a coy expression. This is the part where she embarrasses me enough to bring me to tears. Desperate, I clutch Arnold to me fiercely, before he's able to recover. Anything to keep him from turning around and seeing her. As I hook my neck in place at his shoulder, I widen my eyes, wearing my most pleading expression and silently begging my mother not to interfere. She studies my face for a moment, then noiselessly pads her way to the counter, picks up the bottle of Tabasco, then leaves just as quietly as she came in. Letting out a breath I didn't even know I was holding, I turn my head to inhale the scent of Arnold's hair, knowing that this may well be my last chance to sample it for a very long time. He must have the patience of a saint to put up with the likes of me.

Planting a kiss on his cheek, I lean my head back and know that I've just developed a new fantasy for myself. Maybe the philosophers are right. I should live my life as though I'm going to die. Because it's probably true. But don't think I haven't made secret plans to live forever through him. Just a simple flick of my wrist, and I'm tickling him mercilessly. "See? I'm not without my fun and spontaneous side!" There's something about being in control that makes me feel a constant rush.

"So I've noticed!" He says between laughs, playfully poking me in the stomach, retaliating by attacking my baby fat with his own nimble fingers. He's definitely going to pay for that! He smiles at me, and I feel as though I'm glowing. He's never looked at me like this before. A girl could get used to it. "Helga, I think we're going to be okay."

"I can't promise you anything." I flatten his hand against my stomach with my own. I really should take Phoebe's advice and exercise to burn this small patch of flab off. What? Don't give me that look! I just want to look good in a bathing suit!

"You don't have to. Helga, you know that I believe in you."

"It's easy to believe in me now. It won't be the same after tonight."

"One day at a time, Helga."

"Wait. Don't go yet."

"It's a school night." Arnold sighs. Of course it is. Anything to stymie me, right? I'm making a list of grievances for the universe to here after I die. I'll sue my way into heaven if I have to!

"This will only take a second. I just. . .well, what I wanted. . .I want to let you know. . .I wanted to tell you. . .that I. . .I. . ." The way he places his hand on my shoulder, looking at me as though I'm real, that validates me in a way I've never fathomed was possible. This is the single most loving thing anyone has ever done for me.

"I know." He says softly. Just like that. One last embrace, and he turns to leave. My valiant Don Quixote, off to vanquish windmills for his Dulcinea.

"Hey Arnold?"

"Yeah?"

"Believe in me."

"I will, Helga. Good night."

"Yeah. Good night." As I heard him exit, I decided not to watch him. I wouldn't have been able to see much for all the tears in my eyes, anyway.

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And like that, another chapter gets completed just under the wire. Sometimes the ink is still wet when I run these updates through FFN. That probably explains the fair share of typos that leak through. This chapter was just one heck of a ride to write, let me tell you. It actually ended up more positive in tone. When I first conceived it weeks ago, I expected it to be much darker. But, as I have said so many times, I prefer to direct the characters rather than write them. As a writer, all I really do is come up with the situation behind each scene, give the character(s) his or her motivation. I then leave them to do there thing. They speak to me, and I write it down. I've never told Helga what to do. She does her own thing, I'm just here to chronicle it for you. Sounds wacky, I'm sure. But trust me, it works. As long as the soup gets made, I'm sure you're not worried about the details.

So, this was it. The much anticipated climax. Once again, don't worry. The story isn't over yet. By my count, you still get treated to another three chapters before you have to find another fix. It's a little saddening to be moving so close to the end. I do feel a need to get back to Awakening, and I don't want to disappoint anyone with that title, that's a story I still need to tell. I know I'll be back to it after Hereafter is complete. But I have to admit that it's hard to leave all this behind. I know I'll be back, that I can promise you. I'm determined to keep this audience!

Geez, I'm talking like I'm going away or something. You just stay write there! The chapter is over, but I still have a few more things to say before this story reaches its conclusion. There will be plenty of time for snacks later!

All of you who just keep coming back for more, you're absolutely wonderful. Don't ever change. The continued success of this story is all thanks to you. I couldn't have gotten here without the love, support, and encouragement so many of you in this fandom have given me. And when I'm finished, I'm going to work hard a spreading some of that around! To the newcomers, welcome, although I hope you're not so new to the story if you're this far in. Unless of course you're cheating and trying to see what happens ahead of time. Naughty!

A special message to Yardbird 9. Thanks for the recent thoughtful review from Chapter 4. I hope by now, you've read on and discovered that there's a reason why some things didn't seem quite right. As comedian Bill Cosby once said "I told you that story so I could tell you this one." I'll leave it up to you and my other readers to let me know if it was worth it.

I guess that I've rambled on long enough. Your eyes must be glazing over by now. Especially if you stayed up all night, waiting for this to appear in the Just In listing here at FFN. C'mon, there's got to be ONE person that waits like that, right? Oh phooey. All right folks, I love you all, see you in seven days!

And as always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

11/15/04

5:32AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26


	19. Dream Theater

The Sweet Hereafter: Dream Theater

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Part XXXIX: Picture If You Will

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_"You will never understand_

_How it feels to live your life_

_With no meaning or control_

_And with nowhere else to go_

_You're amazed that they exist_

_And they burn so bright_

_That you can only wonder why"_

--William Shatner (with Joe Jackson)

"Common People"

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Arnold surveyed the field before him, noting the empty bleachers that watched their group. Arnold stood at the plate, leaning on his bat and lightly grinding its tip into the dust, a small dirt cloud gathering at his feet. Harold's large form stood before him, the heavyset boy dominating the pitcher's mount. Sid held fast to the hot corner, with Stinky on second and his best friend Gerald on first. Rhonda stood far back in the outfield, just a few feet from the brick wall behind her. As usual, she was unwilling to risk getting any of her designer articles of clothing dirty. Even from this far away, Rhonda managed to look like a stately princess. Although Arnold had never been romantically inclined towards the wealthy and sophisticated girl, he did have to admit that she had a definitive beauty about her, though it was undeniably overshadowed by the much adored Lila Sawyer. Nadine was also staffing the outfield, although her attention was focused primarily on the differing insects that crawled in the grass of the formerly vacant lot rather than any line drives that might be headed her way. Sheen held the third and final outfield position, looking slightly anxious. Arnold didn't blame her; there was always a chance his case of "dangerous lumber" might relapse. Behind him, Eugene, squatted, looking exceptionally small behind the oversized catcher's mask and matching mitt.

Feeling confident, Arnold tapped the play with his bat a few time, then assume his batting stance. Harold's face betrayed nothing, and Arnold felt a little nervous, because he prided himself on being able to read his opponent in times like this. When the pitch did come, it was dispassionate. A big, beautiful meatball came right over the plate, a rare gift that just was most uncharacteristic of Harold's style. Arnold swung, connecting with little trouble. The ball sailed through the air too slowly for the force Arnold had put behind it. He could clearly make out the stitches on the white sphere.

"What the-?" Arnold began to comment before a looming voice interrupted him.

"This does not happen." Harold. What was going on? He was the one who had made the pitch, after all.

"Harold?" Arnold felt very confused. It sounded like Harold, and yet. . .

"Second." Sid agreed bluntly.

"Concur." Rhonda added. Arnold looked at each of them, his head turning slowly, suddenly feeling very small. The baseball dropped into Sheena's glove, and then it vanished, reappearing in Gerald's glove.

"He doesn't understand." Gerald shook his own head and thought.

"Understand what?" Arnold asked.

"Desire." Sid said calmly.

"Sorrow." Stinky spoke in his usual drawl.

"What is lost is found." Nadine's wild pigtails demanded his attention.

"You exist here." Rhonda declared softly, an image of Lila flying unbidden into Arnold's mind. Gerald Field fell away, replaced by a park bench that Arnold wished he could forget.

"I don't exist here. I hate it here!" He could still smell the stink of death, that sorrow filled afternoon when Lila had told him she only liked him as a friend. That dreadful day he had repeatedly tried to change to no avail. For a long time, Arnold had held out hope that he could change the girl's mind, particularly after he had taken her to the Cheese Festival. But his accursed cousin had proved to be his undoing. Never had Arnold seen Lila so taken with anyone as she was with Arnie. Lately, whenever Arnold felt like he was making progress with Lila; it didn't seem like very long before he was moving backwards again, just as quickly. After being crushed by Lila once more during the incident when Gerald's little sister Timberly had held a brief crush on him, he had decided to cut his losses and admit defeat. But somehow, no matter how hard he tried, he was still seeking her arms. He wasn't naïve enough to think that he was in love with her. What did he know of love, anyhow? But it was infatuation all the way. Of that, he was certain.

"You exist here." Stinky reiterated. A murmur passed through the other players on the field, and then the wind began to blow, rustling the tree branches above. Without warning, a figure fell out of the tree, just behind the bench. She was hauntingly familiar, yet somehow out of place here. The girl coughed twice, dusting herself off. No, it couldn't be! Arnold rushed over to find out if she was all right.

"Lila!" Arnold called as he ran towards his friend. She turned her head towards him, eyes lighting up at his very sight. "Lila, are you okay?"

"My name is Lulu." She grinned, proffering her hand so Arnold would help her up. He obliged, and Lulu rose to her feet, leaning against Arnold and snaking her hands up his chest. "And I'm ever so certain that I'm fine, now that you're here, Arnold."

Arnold recoiled from her touch as though bitten. "You're not real!"

"Oh, Arnold, don't be such a silly. I'm as real as you want me to be."

"Hear, hear." Sheena added.

"You create and sustain her as you see fit." Eugene accused.

Arnold swung his bat once more, knocking the oncoming baseball over the foul line. He could hear the faint calling of his grandmother from him up in the stands. "Kill the umpire!"

A little boy searched a dark house, looking for his parents. But no matter how he tried, he was lost, and they were gone. The world was dark, and he was alone and vulnerable. He longed for his mother, but it was his faithful grandfather who sheltered him. Arnold could remember growing up, his loving grandparents doing right by him, beside him every step of the way, even when his problems were beyond their help. All things said, he really had few complaints. And yet. . .it was such a basic instinct, a child's need for his parents. Was that it? Could that be the reason why Lila commanded his attention so well? She was warm, sweat, kind, and affectionate. Perhaps she was his mother reborn. This though gave Arnold pause. If this were true, then it simply wasn't fair of him to put those kinds of expectations on Lila, even if she had made it abundantly clear that she wanted to keep their relationship platonic. It suddenly felt very twisted of him to have developed an Oedipus complex on a girl his own age. She certainly had a graceful beauty about her. Her pigtails swayed with each stride she took, the simplistic blue bows commanding attention. Arnold instantly was reminded of her scene, soft and captivating. Her lips meeting his with a pucker equally strong yet gentle, and with eyes closed, he was lost in the moment, and it was good. Yet more proof that despite their inherent difference, there was always one thing they could agree upon. His eyes fluttered open to reveal the powerful form of Helga G. Pataki, fierce fighter turned lover, somehow smaller and more vulnerable now than she ever had been. Her pink hair resting atop her head like a crown, her deep eyes revealing an entirely new world within, waiting to be mapped and explored. Helga? But. . .he had been thinking about Lila, hadn't he?

"This was not the plan." Harold sighed."

"Change is inevitable." Rhonda offered.

"Yet not always for the best." Side insisted.

"Concur." Gerald chimed in. "What is sought may prove dangerous."

Nadine appeared between the two boys. "There are some things which cannot be planned. We are forced to concede to the wishes if a higher power. Even we do not hold dominion over the heart. Some choices are made that we cannot understand.

"Object!" Cried Stinky.

"Denied." Sheena shot back.

"Concur." Eugene smiled, the scenery changing once more.

Arnold now found himself implausibly running around the bases of the baseball diamond, and he felt as though his friends and schoolmates were somehow deliberating over his fate, although Arnold had extreme difficulty reconciling these people to his friends, save for their faces and voices. Arnold rounded third base, feeling out of breath, and as he ran his way to home plate, he felt himself grow fuzzy and disappear, the setting changing once more. Arnold now seemed to be sitting in the spectator stands, the bleachers entirely empty save for Phoebe sitting at the very bottom of the forty yard line, and a distorted yet familiar figure who shared his company. "H-Helga?"

Ballooned out of proportion, Helga inclined her head towards Arnold and smiled. "Hey, Football Head. I thought you had forgotten all about me."

"You're not the kind of person who is easy to forget, Helga. You want everyone to know who you are, regardless of whether they like you or not."

"Let's not get overly dramatic. I admit nothing." She winked. "So, do you like the new look?" It finally registered in Arnold's mind that Helga had widened to large proportions. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought that she. . .

"No way. Helga? Are you. . ."

"What, this thing? You know, at first I really hated the idea of being pregnant, especially when I knew that this is how I would look months later. But now I kind of like it." Helga smiled, very lightly patting her belly. "Don't get me wrong, it's still a major inconvenience. I guess it's just tough to be down on the whole thing when I'm bonded to it. This isn't just a baby. It's a part of me that's growing each day."

Arnold practically fell backwards off his seat, hearing Helga talk so flippantly about so serious a matter. "But, Helga! How did you. . .I mean. . ."

She smiled at him, giggling. "I haven't had tests run or anything, Arnold. But it has to be yours."

"Mine! But I didn't. . .we haven't. . .I know we didn't. . ."

"I know, I know! I guess it's like you said, Arnold. That was some kiss."

"This just doesn't make any sense, Helga."

"I try not to think about that too much. I like to think of it as a sign or something. Besides, speculating over it isn't going to change anything. This baby is here, and it's ours, and I am not going to ignore it. I'm going to make sure that there's always someone here to tend to our child. I won't let him or her come into the world like I did."

Still feeling very apprehensive, Arnold forced himself to slide closer to Helga, looking intently at her rounded stomach. Helga took hold of his hand and placed it against her belly. "This kid kicks all the time. I think I'm going to look into one of those youth soccer leagues when he. . .she. . .when baby is old enough to play." Helga rolled her eyes. Arnold was forced to agree, as the unborn child inside her once more pushed against its boundaries.

"Wow, Helga. . .this is. . ."

"Amazing, isn't it? Yeah, I'm a real marvel of modern medicine. I've been poked and prodded so many times it isn't funny. Doctors can't figure out how I conceived this child. They checked, and I'm still, ah, unblemished, as it were. Not that Bob would believe me. I know that it sounds crazy, that my life must be ruined or something. . .but I don't really mind. Actually, I feel pretty good about it, because I feel that my baby. . .our baby. . .is a gift. It's not like I went out and did something stupid and now I'm paying the consequence. This just happened. And even though it's going to turn my world completely upside-down, I can't bring myself to feel upset about it."

"Helga, I. . .what if this isn't my baby?!"

"I don't care where the other half of the DNA came from, Arnold. To me, this will always be our child. You're the only person I've ever. . ." She frowned, feeling uncertain. "You've always been able to see that there's more to me than I let on. You believe in me. And you know how I feel. You're about the only guy that I feel I can trust. So this child is ours. I don't need anything from you, Arnold. I don't need money or a place to stay or anything like that. You don't have to sign up for this if you don't want to. I'll survive, I always have."

"I wasn't trying to say that I didn't want responsibility." Arnold sighed. "It's just, I didn't want you to get your hopes up."

Helga laughed. "Hope isn't something I really keep in abundance. Most of my life, I've felt pretty hopeless."

"This is a lot to absorb, Helga."

"I know. Being a mother. . .or a father. . .I'm just so desperate to get it right. I realize that I have so much resentment built up inside me towards my own parents. All my life, I feel like I've been ignored by them. I don't want our child to go through that. I want to be the best mother the world has ever seen."

"I think most people think like that. Parenthood is one of those things in life that lots of people do, and no one has figured out the master plan to. Everyone just muddles through as best they can."

"Or lurch sluggishly, as the case may be." Helga rolled her eyes, as she thought of Miriam nursing a smoothie.

"We'll make it."

"That's the old pepper."

"So when are you expecting?"

"Sometime next month. If it is yours, I wonder if it'll have your head."

"What's wrong with my head?"

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it! Criminey!"

"Well, usually it's pretty high up on your list of things to tease me about."

"Right. So having two of you would just sweeten the pot."

"You definitely were wired differently than any other girl I know, Helga."

"Yeah, well, I try to make everyone's day a little more surreal. I've never been much for hearts and flowers and horses and all that stuff."

"Y'know, now that I think about it, you usually hung out with us guys."

"I can relate to boys better. What's your point?"

"It's funny how I never noticed that before."

"That's because we girls are smarter than you. One of the many advantages to being born a woman. I figure I should exploit it for all it's worth, right?

"Don't take this the wrong way, Helga, but really, I don't think I've ever seen you act like a girl."

"Well, I'm not big on stereotypes, Arnoldo. I also think that painting my nails and powdering my face is not only achingly dull, but a colossal waste of times. They all just do it to get attention anyway. Doesn't make you very original if everyone else is doing it, though, now does it?"

"I've never really thought of it like that before, Helga. Actually, I guess I'm not very good at understanding girls."

"That's okay. I would never be able to trust a man if he could."

"And just what's that supposed to mean?" Arnold asked.

"If you have to ask, I'm not telling you. You'll have to ask him."

"Him? What are you talking about?"

"Your grandfather, Arnold. Doi!" Helga clapped her hands twice, and the world seemed to melt around Arnold. . .

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Arnold sat bolt upright in bed, his heart beating rapidly. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, taking in his surroundings. Everything seemed to appear as he had left it. His alarm clock was still set for school. 3:27AM. Still several hours before he had to get up. Yawning, Arnold threw the covers aside and slid out of bed, deciding he desperately needed to raid the kitchen. On the second floor, he quietly crept past the doors of the various rooms that the boarding house occupants rented. Stepping over the creaky floorboard that lay just outside the water closet, Arnold padded down the stairs, reaching the ground floor. The light in the kitchen was on, which seemed odd. Sure enough, Arnold could hear the unmistakable sound of Phil rummaging around in the refrigerator, singing one of his favorite ditties. "Oh, you beautiful doll, you great big beautiful doll. . ."

"Grandpa?" Arnold asked, stepping into the light.

"Huh? Whazzat?" Phil asked, interrupting his musical interlude to peek his head out of the fridge. "Oh, it's only you, Short Man. Don't scare me like that! I thought you were Pookie!"

"Not last I checked, Grandpa, but I'll let you know if anything changes in that department."

"Right. Now what are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep." Arnold said as he crossed the distance to the cabinet which contained a canister with all the necessary ingredients for making hot chocolate. He pushed it aside, digging deeper into the cupboard and pulling out a second canister that was made of much darker and richer flavor. Arnold removed a mug from the rack and poured a very generous amount of the powder into it, then he filled a teakettle up with water, placing it on the range so it would boil. "I. . .I had this really weird dream, Grandpa. It was pretty unsettling."

"Well, what was it about?"

"Baseball. And. . .other stuff. It was really confusing. I can't really keep track of it all. Everything was happening so fast. I think I might even have been a father!" Arnold said with exasperation as he collapsed into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Phil banged his head on one of the shelves in the fridge after hearing his grandson's explanation.

"Now Arnold, you don't want to be getting too far ahead of yourself. You kids just start everything so fast today! You've got to let us Baby Boomers keep up!" He laughed. Arnold chuckled as well, over the way Phil occasionally liked to pretend that he was younger than he really was. Not that his grandfather wasn't spry. He could still take on most of the parents in his neighborhood, as he had showed just a few months ago. Although Arnold had no idea how long he was going to live, he held out the hope that he would be as spirited and able-bodied as his grandparents when he reached their age.

"Believe me Grandpa, I have no intention of getting that far ahead. I think I'm a long way of before worrying about having kids of my own. I don't even have much luck with the ladies."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure now. Y'know Short Man, your father used to say the same thing. I remember, I used to tell him that he shouldn't go gallivanting around the world when he hadn't even found that special lady yet. But he turned it around on me! Heh heh, told me it was the perfect reason to go off. He didn't have anything holding him here, and he wanted to help others. So off he went. And he sure showed me, didn't he? If he had taken my advice, he might never have met Stella, and you wouldn't be here today. Shows you what I know, doesn't it?"

"I don't know, Grandpa. Sometimes your advice really helps."

"I try my best. I suppose that's all anyone can do. Life is a lot like throwing darts. Sometimes you get lucky. And other times, you end up leaving a big hole in your wall. That's why I stick to Chinese Checkers and Parcheesi."

"Lately, my entire life feels like a game of chess, Grandpa. And I think I've lost sight of my next move. I don't even know whose turn it us. I'm just. . .you know when you have this idea of someone in your head? And you think you know them, and you know what to expect from them? And then, all of a sudden, they go and do something that completely shatters your illusions. And now I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Everything seems different now."

"Well. . ." Phil began, stretching out the syllables as he formulated his answer. ". . .as I recall, I once found myself in the same situation when I was a little older than you. There was this one person who just up and did a complete one-eighty on me one day, and I wasn't able to figure it out for the life of me. To this day, I just can't help but wonder what it was I did to bring about such a change in attitude."

"Was it one of your friends?"

"No, it was your Grandma. I remember she used to make my life miserable when I was your age. She did everything she could to drive me crazy, let me tell you. But, well, I guess things change. And my life might've turned out a lot differently if she weren't in it. Every day, we all get a little older, and supposedly a little wiser. Course, the tradeoff is that you get a little closer to baldness." Phil winked. "I guess what I'm trying to say, Arnold, is that change is just another one of those strange parts of growing up that we don't have all that much control over. I guess the truth is, what you really have to do is just roll with the punches. Every day in that school of yours, they try and teach you something new, right? Make the most of that, Short Man. Learn something new for yourself."

"I learned a lot this weekend. And maybe I'll learn more over time."

"Good."

A whistling began to pierce the air, and Arnold jumped out of his seat to shut the kettle off and pour his beverage. He stirred the mug several times, then took a deep sip, despite the scalding temperature. The disturbing images of Helga with child still haunted him. Scarier still was the fact that he hadn't been completely uncomfortable around her. Yeah, maybe it was time he definitely swore off women for awhile. "Thanks Grandpa." Arnold smiled.

"Don't mention it. You just be mindful of your little friend there, Short Man. You never know when she might turn your life upside-down. Now, best get back to bed when you're finished."

"Okay. G'night, Grandpa."

"Good night, Arnold." Phil smiled as he made his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Arnold sat quietly in the kitchen, snapshots of this entire weekend replaying through his mind, and memories of the stories his grandfather had told him about his parents over the years. Things did have a habit of changing, hopefully for the better. And perhaps if he was patient, he would see that change in Helga as well.

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Okay, this chapter is a wee bit shorter than usual, but I have my reasons. First of all, for those not in the know, FFN is not going to be available for uploading between Sunday and Tuesday. This meant that I only had a few options. I could've held this over, but then everyone would be updating at once. I had my fill of that this week. It's incredible to see such activity going on in the fanfiction community, but it also means that my story got buried in the heap, which was disappointing for me since the last update was the climax. So I nixed that idea. I could've just held out an extra week, but I didn't want to put the story behind schedule. So, I've decided on just releasing this a little early. I'll trust in you all to review it anyway. So, enjoy! But don't think this means you aren't obligated to tell me how I'm doing. I'm demanding that way.

I realize that this chapter was very weird and cryptic in many places. Let me assure you that it was entirely on purpose. A lot of the dream was an homage to "Deep Space Nine," so I admit you probably have to be a fan of that show to fully appreciate it. However, I did work to ensure that I keep everything within the context of the story. The last thing that I want to do is start boring people.

Even so, the story STILL has not reached its conclusion. I still have a good two chapters in me. I'm excited to unveil the work for next week, but I guess you'll have to wait for that. I don't want to give anything away, so I'll just tell you that I've decided to call the next chapter "Rainy Days And Mondays."

I'm still pleased to see that people are continuing to find the story that haven't been with it from the beginning. Welcome aboard. It's good to have you with me. I can only hope you'll still remember my story after it has reached its conclusion and there's no more to tell. But in the meantime, stay with me for the rest of the flight. I've still got a few loops and dives to throw your way.

I'm guessing this is as good a place as any to stop. I shall return next week, at the usual time, unless FFN is going to be difficult again. Until then, keep the reviews, e-mails, and instant messages coming! And as always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

11/20/04

3:11AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26


	20. Rainy Days And Mondays

The Sweet Hereafter: Rainy Days And Mondays

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Part XXXX: Crow Of The Rooster

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_"Talkin' to myself and feelin' old_

_Sometimes I'd like to quit_

_Nothing ever seems to fit_

_Hangin' around_

_Nothing to do but frown_

_Rainy days and Mondays always get me down"_

--The Carpenters

"Rainy Days And Mondays"

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All was quiet in the aftermath. Light spilled in through the large window set into the far end of the hallway, the blessings of the sun finding no one who had been left behind in the wake. The individual tiles that made up the floor students trampled through daily were all but hidden beneath a sea of papers and textbooks. Lockers stood with their doors hanging ajar, more than one in danger of coming off its hinges. Curly was caught on the coat hook from his own locker, dangling like a Christmas turkey and struggling in vain. No one dared make a sound yet. The bulk of the students were still pressed tightly against the walls in an effort to make themselves blend in. Some had fallen to the ground, unfortunate victims of the passing storm. Breathing slowly began to normalize as people began to realize that they weren't going to die after all.

Striding with confidence through his domain, Principal Wartz maneuvered into the hallway, surveying the destruction before him. Clearly this was the work of some delinquent mastermind determined to subvert the system, corrupt young, innocent minds, and tarnish the reputation of P.S. 118, not to mention its long-standing principal. Eyeing the slightly deranged boy with glasses and a bowl cut, Wartz hoisted the young man from the hook, pegging him as the obvious troublemaker in this shameful display of disdain for authority. Wartz prided himself on his uncanny ability to nab guilty parties with minimal fuss. Curly attempted to protest his innocence to no avail. Clearly, no one was willing to risk speaking the truth for fear of unholy retribution. As the principal rounded the corner, dragging Curly with him, the remaining students collectively turned in the opposite direction, looking out towards the path this morning's tornado of rage had traveled. And corridors ahead, Helga G. Pataki goes about her business, leaving a trail of despair and hatred behind her.

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When I woke up this morning, I wept. That's right. Helga G. Pataki lay in her bed like an infant and refused to get up until the tears stopped flowing. I didn't sob, I didn't bawl, I didn't snivel. I just lay there; weeping quietly for all that I'd lost. Waking up every morning is like coming back to life. But having to face this one without him. . .going back to a life of lies and masks just feels so empty. I'm facing the world alone, and the prospect scares me.

When I stand back and reflect on everything, it's as though I'm realizing that I'm in love for the first time. That might no make much sense coming from me. I've been professing my love for six years now in secret, always seeking quiet solitude, expressing my desires when no one else is looking. But I understand it now. It's so much more real to me, but the sorrow is this it hurts a lot more. I guess I know what I'm missing now. Is it the hope that frightens me? That we might have something in common? I'm so self-destructive, I just don't trust myself. I can't trust myself. So I'm not really sure where that leaves me.

I stand back in awe of my recent behavior, and wonder if it really was me. I can't remember ever being so open, bouncing from emotion to emotion. And he was always there to placate me. He wants to see me make something of myself. I asked him to believe in me. So when do I start believing in myself? When do I feel I haven't failed? The fact that I've made any progress at all is astounding to me. I'm getting my confidence back. Maybe it doesn't matter that I'm not pretty, that I don't fit his image of the ideal woman. I got to him. I know, because you can't fake kisses like that. And if anyone can, it should be a criminal offense. This is almost enough to make me jump around like a loon, until the other shoe drops. I wasn't able to keep it going. He told me that I'm not ready. That cut me deep. It hurt to be told that I wasn't ready for the one thing I've been waiting for my entire life. What did he know about love, anyway? Okay, okay, so maybe some of that is my fault. I really need to come clean about the whole Lila thing. He's going to be angry about that one, I know it. But I have to learn to trust him. Moreover, I need to show him that he can trust me. I guess that means that I've grown a little, so I should hold out hope that I can get my act together.

So, after hearing about all that, you might be wondering why I've been on such a rampage this morning. That part isn't nearly so difficult to explain. I got on the bus this morning like it was any other morning. It was raining, which somehow just seemed fitting for my triumphant return to the hallowed halls of P.S. 118. So I follow my usual routine, I flash my bus pass, grudgingly provided by Big Bob, and take a seat towards the back, looking for Phoebe. Only Phoebe isn't there. That was a little tough to swallow, because I had a lot to talk to her about. She's my best friend, and I need her. But Phoebe wasn't the only absentee this morning. An unmistakable stack of frizzy hair was seated several aisles in front of me, with no one next to him. Geraldo without the Football Head or even my best friend just wasn't Geraldo.

So there I was, sitting by myself, feeling completely abandoned. I got off the bus when we reached the school, took a deep breath, and fell back into a role that I've played for so long. I no longer know what is fabrication and what is real. I roared, and I rampaged, tossing people aside like rag dolls. I could feel myself transforming into some kind of monster, my heart hardening in my chest. I was as cold as steel. My personality was that of a razor. Who's to say it's changed? I'm sitting at my desk in Simmons' classroom, looking every inch of my black mood. Phoebe came in, smiling radiantly at me, and rushing over to welcome me back to the madness that is fourth grade. Slowly, the rest of our class began to trickle in, along with our teacher. The day began with the ring of a bell. Arnold flashed a smile at me as he took his seat. The smile was not returned.

After Simmons took his head count and began outlining his dubious lesson plans for the day, he went to the trouble of welcoming me back to his class. That's just what I need. Good ol' public humiliation. This was how I knew my morning was complete. Being told how special it was to have me back, it made me want to be sick. Okay, so I was gone for a little while. But I'm fine now! The last thing I want is people flocking all over me. Still, though I hate to admit it, I do appreciate that people missed me. Maybe I'm just uncomfortable with anyone making a fuss over me. No one ever has before. So on those rare occasions when it happens, I don't really know how to act. I'm not a people person.

Once Simmons was through torturing me, he began outlining his dubious lesson plan for the day, which I felt afforded me a great opportunity. I opened my desk, withdrawing a small, sealed box that I had been saving for a rainy day. Using my thumbnail to carefully slice through the shrink wrap, I tossed the cellophane aside. Slowly I slide the flimsy cardboard cover to the left, the pungent scene of rubber gripping my nostrils. I drew one of the bands out, twirling it between my thumb and index finger. Solid composition, ideal for long stacks of paper, but not so thick as to ruin the aerodynamics. Grinning to myself, I hooked one of the bands around my left thumb and pulled back with my right index finger, lining up the target. At times like this, I really appreciate the misshapen head of his. It's pretty hard to miss. I let the rubber band fly and it hits him square in the back of the head, just as I had hoped. Arnold turned to look at me. His eyes met mine in a precise and calculating manner. I am being measured. There is nothing that I hate more than being measured, being weighed. Even by him. Especially by him, because I know that he'll find me lacking, and that's a rejection that I'm just not willing to take. It would destroy me. I can see his eyes widen for a moment, but it's impossible to hide that look of disappointment so plainly visible on his face. And that's what I can't take. There's nothing worse than someone whom you think the world of being disappointed in you. Easier to stomach anger or resentment from them, but disappointment is the bitterest medicine of all.

People say how wonderful it is to be in love. If someone tells you that, then let me assure you, it's never happened for them. Falling in love offers you nothing but constant insecurity. The fear of that feeling not being reciprocated, or even if it is, that he will stop loving you. For me, well, I know that I'm unlovable, that's why I hide my light under a bowl. I can't let people know about my feelings, because everyone knows me. And they know that no one will ever love me. They'll mock me for even thinking I stand the chance. Maybe I just delude myself into thinking I do. All I know is that my own feelings are incredibly intense. All my emotions are. Love, hate, anger, frustration. . .I don't do anything softly. And even if he can't return my feelings, I still have to watch him. No one can love him like I can. But if I can't stand with him, then I have to be there to look out for him, and keep the ones that aren't worthy away. Maybe that's my role, to make sure that he finds the right person. Does that make me a living sacrifice? Yeah, I guess it does. But I guess that's okay. I could do a lot worse.

That's what makes his disappointment in me so painful. Criminey! Don't I suffer enough in life? The last thing I want is to lose the opportunity to be near him. I put my box away and think of how close I came this weekend. I have to keep believing. He likes me, I know he does. But he hasn't fallen for me. I want him to so much. I want to be someone he can fall for. If what he said is true, and he doesn't go after only the pretty ones, then I guess I do stand a chance. But what could there possibly be about me that would make him want to stand up and take notice?

I can hear Phoebe whispering to me. Furrowing my eyebrow, I turn in her direction, and she passes me a note. That's not much like her. She usually isn't so rigid that she'll refuse to pass a note, but it's pretty rare that she actually composes one herself. I dart my eyes back and forth, listening to Simmons drone on and on about the American Revolution, and then I slowly unfold the thing in my lap, careful not to make too much noise. I can scarcely believe my eyes when I see what she wrote:

_I tried to call you last night, but the line was busy. Is everything okay? I'm sorry I missed you on the bus this morning, but Arnold stopped by and asked me to walk with him. He had a lot of questions, mostly about you. I didn't tell him anything that I promised not to reveal, but he seemed really concerned. Did something happen between you and Arnold?_

Once again, I feel like I have to pick my jaw up off the floor. I just don't get it! How could she ask me this? Doesn't she already know how I feel? Maybe not entirely. I should tell her. I know that she knows, and she knows that I know that she knows, but. . .I still don't think that she completely gets it. But it's so hard to share this kind of thing, because no one could possibly understand. Even I'm smart enough to know that I shouldn't have these feelings. I know that it's crazy, but I'm okay with that. I wasn't, for a long time. But I am now. I guess my psychiatrist is good for something after all.

The truth of the matter is that Phoebe deserves to hear it from me. And I do want to admit it to her. I'm sure she would be a lot more. . .relieved if I came out and said it. And one of these days, I'm going to tell her. But today isn't that day. I grab my pen and flatten note upon my desk, scribbling madly:

_I'm perfectly fine, Phoebe! No thanks to you! Where the heck were you all morning, anyway? Last I checked, we were still best friends, so how about acting like one?! As for that Football-Headed yutz, there's nothing going on that a can of Mace in his eyes wouldn't cure! I hate the little shrimp! I always have, and I always will! Nothing's going to change that! Criminey! So whatever little plan you and Hair Boy are cooking up for my supposed benefit, you can both just stuff it down your pie holes!_

_--Helga_

I take great care to sign my name with elegance. It did pose a sharp contrast to the anger I had just written. Good. Let her see the two sides of Helga Pataki in all her glory. Maybe then, someone will understand. Opening my desk, I slipped my hands inside to muffle the sound of crumpling paper. I'm just full of unfocused rage today. Satisfied with my handiwork, I cupped the now compact note in my hands and tested the weight. I watch for Simmons to begin writing on the blackboard. He's so predictable. As he turns around, I snap the paper ball towards my best friend, beaning poor Phoebe on the head. She glowered at me before discretely bending down to pick it up. As I watched her stiffen her face to keep the tears from falling, a wave of shame passed over me. Phoebe quietly finished reading my outburst, then shared it with the love of my life. He scanned it quickly, then turned to flash those brilliant eyes at me, frowning in disapproval. When will I learn to stop pushing everyone away? I stick my tongue out at him and look away. Disgusted, I fish inside my desk again for a notebook and began tearing a sheet of paper into long strips. I wonder how many spitballs I can peg him with today? Playwright Neil Simon once wrote "We are what we are." I so desperately want to believe that that isn't true, that we have the ability to change. But on this cold, damp October morning, I can't help but feel that truer words were never spoken.

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Lunchtime. It feels like forever since I last got my grub on. Even if it is school food. There's just something comforting about a burger. Maybe I'm just the type who needs red meat coursing through her veins. It certainly makes me feel more energetic. It takes a lot of fuel to keep my going, and it's been a busy morning. I have a lot of insults to hurl and noses that need punching. I was going for the spitball record earlier, but Arnold managed to duck a few. I came in six direct hits short, which was a little frustrating. I should be better than that. But I am a little out of practice. Oh well, tomorrow is another day after all, right?

I'm running a toothpick through my teeth, and I'm just about to start in on my tapioca pudding when P.S. 118's self-proclaimed empress of fashion presents herself before me. Her posture and her expression make it look as though I'm supposed to curtsy and kiss her pinky ring. Yeah, dream on sister. No doubt about it, this is just going to be one of those days when nothing goes my way. A fitting return to the hell that is elementary school life. I should really look into writing a country song about my life. Or at least selling my life story to someone in the business. That ought to be good for some of the long green. But I think I'm beyond the point of money being able to buy me happiness. I know, because Big Bob has already tried that angle. "So what do you want, Princess?" I ask, wondering what the heck she's doing here. I can dimly remember her showing up on Saturday. Was that supposed to impress me?

"The last time I saw you, Arnold was wheeling you into your room at the hospital. You were passed out, and your face was all flushed." Rhonda spoke with the conviction of a journalist who had a hot scoop. Sheesh, what a maroon.

"Are you going somewhere with this?" I ask in the most annoyed voice that I can muster, digging into my dessert. The heck with manners, I've never been much for them. I certainly don't see why I have to exchange pleasantries with Rhonda Wellington Lloyd of all people.

"Oh, nothing." Rhonda smiled. Okay, something was definitely going on. "I was just wondering what it must've been like. I've never had a **_kiss _**with death before."

"What are you blathering about, Lloyd?" Now I'm annoyed. I can think of about fifty different things to do that are more enjoyable than a luncheon with the most pretentious girl in our school.

"Why, Helga, I'm only trying to make sure that you're comfortable. What with this weather and all, I want you **_lips _**to get chapped."

"Can the semantics and get to your point!" I snapped.

"You can't go keeping secrets from us, Helga. Especially juicy ones like this. We girls have to stick together. You know, unspoken sorority rules. And we have a right to know when a guy goes off the market."

I covered up my shock my angrily thumping both my bendy straws against the table, removing them from their wrappers and slamming them into my chocolate milk carton. She couldn't possibly have anything on me! We were too far away for anyone to see, and no one else knows about it except him. And he wouldn't have said anything because no one would believe him. She's just playing a hunch, trying to get me to say something incriminating. Ha! Nice try sister, but Helga G. Pataki ain't nobody's sap! I can outmaneuver Miss Moneybags here any day of the week. "Since when do you consider me one of the girls? We both know that I'm not anything like the rest of you, and I have no desire to start."

"That may be true." Rhonda readily admitted. "But as fellow carries of the X chromosome, we're supposed to look out for each other. Especially where men are concerned."

"You have got to be kidding. Look, I know the boys better than anyone else in your little clique." I smiled, hoping to turn the tables on this serpent and cast her out of my garden before she slithered onto the truth. "So if you want me to ask someone out for you, just say it. And after I have a good, long laugh, I'll try to remember to pass along the message." There. That ought to keep you quiet for long enough.

"I was thinking more about you." My opponent shot back, determined to maintain her dignity and obviously certain that she had my number. If only she knew how right she was. Rhonda usually is an idiot when it comes to this kind of thing, but I supposed every now and then, even a moron has to get one right, even if it is purely by accident. "I saw that awkward look on Arnold's face, Helga. Something obviously happened between you two."

Okay, fine, you want to play hardball? We'll play. The difference between you and I is that I don't suffer from a handicap of dignity or social status. "Well doi! Of course something happened between us, Princess! It just isn't what you think. He was probably feeling awkward because I socked him one."

"You what?!"

"You heard me! I let him get acquainted with Ol' Betsy! He was getting all mushy and concerned and. . .treating me like I was some kind of invalid. What else was I supposed to do? I have my pride, you know."

Rhonda looked furious. I could practically see smoke coming out of her ears. "Do you mean to tell me that you hit that poor boy when all he ever did was care about what happens to you? Not that I see and reason why he should!" Ouch, somehow, it hadn't sounded quite that bad when I had made the lie up. Too late now. Nice going, Helga Old Girl.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. He can care about me all he wants! That doesn't change the fact that I can't stand the misshapen little cretin!"

"What. . .what kind of monster ARE you, Helga?" Lloyd spat as she moved away in abject horror and disgust.

"The kind that's in love with him." I mouthed silently, no longer feeling very hungry.

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It's been a long time since I've tied Arnold's shoelaces together. He really went down spectacularly, taking the hapless Eugene with him. On occasions like this, I have a special laugh that I use, letting the world know that I'm the trickster. Arnold knows it well. He looked at me as our class entered the guy, clearly upset. Can't say that I'm sorry, my love. Last night I begged you, but you chose this. I can't be held responsible. Besides, you left your shoes right out in the open before changing into your shorts. What else was I supposed to do. Still, he does look good in that blue tank top. . .I shake my head to clear the reverie. Now isn't the time. I trot over to the rest of our class in my pink shorts and white T-shirt. Finally, a class worth participating in. Coach Wittenberg's idea of teaching is organized chaos. Today he launched one of those big, bouncy red balls at Geraldo and told us to get a game of dodge ball going. Perfect. Now here's a sport where I can really exorcise my aggressive tendencies.

As the captain, Tall Hair Boy unsurprisingly decides to square off against his best friend. That leaves the rest of us to stand by and wait for Tweedledee and Tweedledumber to pick the rest of us poor souls out of a lineup. I'm not overly surprised when I'm the fifth player called, third one on Gerald's team. I may not be popular, but everybody knows that these kinds of sports are where I'm an asset. I had expected Arnold to pick me just so he could keep an eye on me. Maybe my steady stream of torments I've unleashed on him today are finally getting to him. Funny, they never have before.

I love being on the aggressive side first. Having a chance to strike down all the other kids in the middle just gives me an incredible feeling of power. It's a fairly predictable round, the weaker players go out quickly, and there just isn't enough room in the middle for them to dodge at their level of skill. As we start to separate the wheat from the chaff, that's where things get interesting. I can see Arnold coaching moves to the rest of his team via hand signal. Sid's supposed to break left. Curly is twitching back and forth, not paying attention. Nadine's goal is to fad back, letting Arnold come up front. Eugene is going to play the decoy, making him self an easy target, and Arnold is going to try to leap in and catch the ball. It's a bold move.

Gerald could tell that something was definitely up. We all knew the basic signals, but I was on the angle to see Arnold best. Dramatic irony strikes again. I locked eyes with Johanssen and gave him the slightest of nods. Gerald slammed the ball far right into the center, intentionally missing everyone and putting it right into my hands. Now the game was afoot. I Pulled my arm back and prepared to let it fly. So, Arnoldo, but you're not going to get this one. He knew I was coming for him. His eyes narrowed in a dare. So he wanted a dance, eh? Not a problem. I could do this all day. I held the ball in the palm of my hand to build the tension before finally releasing. Half a second later, I knew I had him. I bounced the ball just inside the ring, far earlier than he expected. He was right in its path, and there was no way for him to catch it. That didn't stop him from trying. He dove low, and the ball knocked him on the stomach before his chin hit the floor in a collision I knew would damage his beautiful skin. To his credit, Arnold seemed more shaken then hurt, but there was an unmistakable cut on his chin, and he had to be sent to the nurse's office for a band-aid. Gerald ended the game quickly after that, all the fight had gone out of Arnold's team. We took our turns in the center, but I paid little attention, and let myself be nailed from behind. It's only a stupid game anyway. I didn't bother waiting for a dismissal from Wittenburg, I immediately went to the locker room to change back into my dress after being eliminated. It was the end of the day, anyway. The bell rang minutes later, and I walked mindlessly out the front door, not even bothering to wait for Phoebe. Gerald caught up to me. Great, now I was going to get blamed for a simple accident.

"What is with you, Helga? You didn't have to go so hard on him!" Gerald asks in a tone that demands answers. He and I have never liked each other, but it's a rare thing that he actually confronts me.

"It was just a game. I didn't try to get him hurt, alright? Besides, your little friend is fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I have. . .an appointment."

"No! It's not okay! You've been tearing into Arnold all day! Way worse than usual! He spent the entire weekend worried about your well-being, and this is how you pay him back?"

"Yeah, that's right. Do you have some kind of problem with that?!" Will you just leave me alone!

"Yeah, I've got a big problem. Something has been going on ever since you went into that hospital. My own best friend won't even talk about it! And now he's being abused for no reason! So I wanna know what's going on between you two."

"There's nothing going on, okay?! Everything's the same as it's always been! I hate the little twerp, he has some misguided idea that I'm not really the monster I really am. Don Quixote gets slapped once again by the face of reality but refuses to see it for what it is!"

"And you expect me to believe that?" How much nerve can Geraldo have?

"Yeah, I do."

"Well I don't! I think it's pretty obvious what-"

"You don't think at all! There's nothing to discuss! If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. Now go join your pathetic little friend for all I care! Just leave me alone, Johanssen! You're both the most pathetic fools I've ever met, and you can fall off the earth for all I care!" As I start to turn away, I can feel Arnold's eyes on me. As I cast my gaze to the left, I can see him looking at me. He doesn't seem disappointed or angry. He looks hurt. Deeply hurt. Like he did that one time my dad called him an. . .I shove Gerald out of the way, but he doesn't lose his footing. I don't bother to see what he does next, I'm already gone. It's a good ten blocks to Hillwood Medical Center, and I only turn around after five before I turn around to make sure that I'm not being followed. I feel like I'm going to break into pieces if I have to endure one more thing today.

Somehow, I make it through those final few blocks and stop at the steps in front of the medical center. As my feet hit the first step, I can see a flock of pigeons suddenly take wing from the roof, a cacophony of coos following their flight path. Their noise triggers something deep inside of me and I drop my books, sinking to my knees on the cold, hard steps, wishing to heaven and the stars above that I were anyone but myself.

_"Then he began to call down curses on himself and he swore to them, 'I don't know the man!'_

_Immediately a rooster crowed. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: 'Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times." And he went outside and wept bitterly."_

--Matthew 26:74-75

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The fact that this chapter has been released on time is nothing short of a miracle. Up until a few minutes ago, I didn't see anyway how it would be possible. But they say he works in mysterious ways, and here is your new update, right on time. Go me!

I hope you're all recovered from that last chapter with the wongo dream. Like I said, I my goal was to disorient you all as much as possible, and it would appear that in that goal, I succeeded. That always makes me happy. As I'm sure you've noticed, FFN has been trapped in read-only mode for some time, so I'm really happy that I was able to get that last chapter out to you a day early. It turned out to do a world of good. Otherwise, you'd just be getting it now, instead of this one. And IMO, this one is a lot better.

Which brings me to a bit of good news. I had so much planned, that even after everything you've just read here. . .there are still two chapters left! I can't believe how much it took just to write all this. I haven't added anything new to my plot, but I definitely can't wrap it up in one chapter now. Looks like you'll all get to squeeze an extra week of enjoyment out of my little story. Now don't everyone groan all at once. . .

This was a very pivotal chapter, I feel, because it really has so much to do with the relationship. There was a lot I wanted to show here. As you can see, I'm not much for happily ever after. In some ways, this may have been the most important chapter of my story so far, but that's entirely up to you to decide. All I have to do is go through the painstaking process of coming up with this story in my brain and translating it into a medium that you all can appreciate. You're the ones that actually have to digest this thing and let me know if it was worth the time and effort while I look on begging to not have messed it up. A little melodramatic, I know, but that's often how I feel. I wonder if the rest of you go through this.

Anyway, this will be the end of the file for the week, so you know the drill. There's a little window in the bottom left corner of the page that says Review. Click on it and say something. I'm always desperate for feedback! But of course, that's not the only way to contact me. As always, you may send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

11/29/04

6:13AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26


	21. Heart Of Darkness

The Sweet Hereafter: Heart Of Darkness

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Part XXXXI: What Have You Done?

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_"My Lullaby, hung out to dry  
What's up with that  
It's over  
Where are you dad  
Mum's lookin' sad  
What's up with that  
It's dark in here_

Why, bleeding is breathing  
You're hiding underneath the smoke in the room  
Try, bleeding is believing  
I used to

My mouth is dry  
Forgot how to cry  
What's up with that  
You're hurting me  
I'm running fast  
Can't hide the past  
What's up with that  
You're pushing me

Why, bleeding is breathing  
You're hiding underneath the smoke in the room  
Try, bleeding is believing  
I used to  
I used to

Why, bleeding is breathing  
You're hiding underneath the smoke in the room  
Try, bleeding is believing  
I saw you crawling on the floor  
Why, bleeding is believing  
You're hiding underneath the smoke in the room  
Try, bleeding is believing  
I saw you crawling to the door  
Why, bleeding is believing  
You're hiding underneath the smoke in the room  
Try, bleeding is believing  
I saw you falling on the floor"

--Natalie Imbruglia

"Smoke"

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It took a great deal of strength not to cry on Dr. Bliss' shoulders, because crying is about the only way I can possibly describe how I feel on this, the single most miserable day of my meaningless existence. My life is an endless purgatory, interrupted only by moments of profound misery. Yeah, that sums it up nicely. She wants to help me, I know. But I also realize that I have reached a point where there's nothing else she can tell me. I know what I have to do, and it's up to me to do it. Even so, she lets me lie there on her couch in silence until sunset. I barely even acknowledge her existence. I always do this to people. When I don't want to deal, I just ignore. I foster a resentment to anyone that might want to help me to make sure that I'm a lost cause. Maybe I'm just reveling in the drama of it all. I'm just stalling. Anything is better than going home. Facing those people I don't have anything in common with but my last name and some chromosomes, I just can't do it today. It's not that I can't go through the motions of us being a normal family. It's that all pretenses were dropped ages ago. No one makes any effort. No one even tries anymore. We're not a family. We're just people that live together. We tolerate one another. Just barely. And we're all using each other. What makes me want to wretch is that I'm no better.

I only stand up when she starts packing to leave for the day. I know what she wants to say. She wants to tell me to stop doing this to myself. And I want to stop, that's the ironic thing. Ever since I had that taste of a better life, I don't want to give it up. But somewhere along the line, I decided that depriving myself of happiness is the only way to pay for my sins.

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I didn't bother making an announcement that I was home. Why would anyone care, anyway? I carry my bag up the stairs and shut the door to my room, locking it behind me. I just want to be alone. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to hear anything. I've never been so angry with myself before. And it's only the top of the iceberg, I'm certain. I throw off my clothes and clamber into my bed. A little nap would do me some good, anything to keep me from having to think. I can just forget about everything.

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_"It seems to me that there are more hearts broken in this world than can be mended_

_Left unattended_

_What do we do?_

_What do we do?"_

--Gilbert O'Sullivan

"Alone Again, Naturally"

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I'm standing half naked in front of my stupid mirror, trying to settle a score with myself. But every time I try to start, I feel like I'm going to be sick. I hurt inside, worse than I ever imagined. I flatten my hands against the cold surface, pressing my forehead flat against the glass, questioning the girl that mimics each move I make. "What have you done?" I recoil in horror. I'm going to be sick. "What have you done?" Someone's crying. It's me, isn't it? How could I not cry as I stand in front of this hateful looking glass? The person staring back at me is so wretched that I can scarcely contain my repulsion. I'm definitely going to be sick. I can feel it's already started, that awful prickly feeling in the back of your throat when you know you're only a minute or two away from violently heaving the contents of your stomach all over. I've never hated myself more than I do in this moment. I'm sure of it. I look behind me to make sure that my bedroom door is still closed and locked. I don't want anyone seeing me like this. I grab my garbage can and heave, trying to keep from choking on my own vomit as my body forces what feels like half my insides out. My throat burns at the acid, and I can tell you with no uncertainty that my cheeseburger and fries doesn't taste nearly as good the second time around, to say nothing of the smell. Misshapen chunks stuck between my teeth and under my tongue, making me want to gag further. Slowly, I lift my head and glance to the side, weighing to make sure that I'm done, breathing raggedly as my body hits me with round two, two pieces of what's left of lunch come flying out my nostrils along with a viscous liquid. Perfect. I'll smell that for the next hour or two. As I lift my head, shaking and wary of my surroundings, I can see my closet propped open and the warm glow of a light string beckoning me with its hidden treasures. I dimly remembered hiding in here. But I just have no use for it anymore. Today I finally succeeded. I created a world where no one could get at me. I finally shut them all out. There's no one left to hurt me, but there's no one left to save me, either. All because I couldn't just let myself be happy. I couldn't accept the chance I was given by him. I had to destroy it, prove that I'm not worthy. Otherwise, how will anyone pity me?

I look at myself in that awful mirror once more. I look worse than ever, far worse than my stay in the hospital. I hate how I look. It's all wrong. I yank the pink ribbon out of my hair, balling it up and throwing it in the waste basket along with the remnants of my last meal. I don't deserve to wear it anymore. I hardly even feel anything as what may be my oldest and original link to the love of my life sinks into a puddle of sick. I don't have any more tears to shed, dreams to dream. It's all ending. My hair falls around my head in clumps, as though it too is giving up the ghost. My dress is lying in a wad on the floor. The white undershirt and matching socks I'm wearing feel dirty and worn, like me. Feeling nothing but emptiness and rage, I sock the girl standing in the mirror, again and again, listening to the satisfying sound of cracking glass with each impact. An angry red streak is left in the wake as the mirror finally shatters into pieces, and I pull the shards out of my knuckles, not even registering the discomfort. At least I don't have to look at myself anymore. One more minute of that girl staring at me, and I might have puked a second time. What a flimsy mirror, breaking for so meager a beating. My fist seems to disagree. Too bad, Betsy ol' girl. I'm just getting started today. Item by item, my meager possessions meet their death. I'm only vaguely aware of upending my bed, ripping my sheets to shreds, smashing my lamp, tearing my plethora of pink dresses. I hate this stuff! I hate my life! I hate Olga, and my parents, and that stupid Football Head for making me fall in love with him! I hate everyone and everything! But nothing else compares to this intense hatred I feel for myself, for everything that I am. I can feel myself bleeding, cuts on my hands and feet from repeated impacts with broken glass and splintering wood. Never has a case of rage made me feel so empty of anything good in my life. Nothing can help me. No one can make me happy. So I might as well spread as much pain and suffering as I can.

Ironically, as I look at my closet and its nearly empty hangers, I notice one dress that somehow escaped my wrath. It's a frilly and fancy one, a designer work I snatched from under Olga's nose that time she was wallowing in misery because I changed her grades. Okay, maybe I'll hold onto that one. I like the look of it, and it makes me feel like I'm a different person. Besides, it's too expensive to waste.

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_On the day I walked away_

_All the blue rolled into grey_

_Now in the dark, alone I lay_

_I should've stopped_

_But I could never, ever stay_

_Somewhere in the night_

_Inside my dreams you burn so bright_

_And I'm with you there and everything's all right_

_Somewhere in the night_

_Before the darkness turns to light_

_Let me love you there_

_Somewhere in the night _

_Second chances, I won't get_

_I wouldn't dare to hope, and yet…_

_Everywhere I turn, I see your silhouette_

_Been so long_

_But I never will forget_

_Somewhere in the night_

_Inside my dreams you burn so bright_

_And I'm with you there and everything's all right_

_Somewhere in the night_

_Before the darkness turns to light_

_Let me love you there_

_Somewhere in the night _

_Time after time I find that I'm living without you_

_Up on the hill, I see you still_

_But I just can't reach_

_Who would answer your prayers?_

_Who would wait by the stairs?_

_Not me…_

_Not me!_

_Somewhere in the night_

_Inside my dreams you burn so bright_

_And I'm with you there and everything's all right_

_Somewhere in the night_

_Before the darkness turns to light_

_Let me see your face_

_Feel your warm embrace_

_Let me love you…_

_Somewhere in the night _

--Scott Bakula

"Somewhere In The Night"

_-_

_-_

I'm standing within the center of my inner realm now, where I've cast countless incantations and offered numberless prayers to a boy who has become a demigod to me. As I gently pick up this latest in a long line of shrines to my beloved, I find I am without tears or pity. It's eerie how easily it crumbles in my hands. How many of these has my mother thrown out over the years? And now I'm doing the same, closing my eyes to the welt of pain it causes. I must not feel, I have to stay numb. Perhaps it's time that I put away childish things, but I'm gouging you out of my life as I would a blind eye. It doesn't hurt as badly as I'd imagined it would. Good, because I don't want to feel. Nevertheless, there's an unmistaken feeling of relief that accompanies the destruction. It's only a minute or so after the dirty deed is done when I am forced to face the sad realization that there is nothing in my life now. I am nothing, and I am alone. Ouch. Being hit with that harsh reality is more painful than I expected. I guess that makes me even with myself. I've never been this alone before. Finally, the sounds of destruction die down. Funny how I never noticed the awful racket I was stirring up while in the process of making it. Then again, I've always been the type to see what I want to see, hear what I want to hear.

My feet hurt, and my hands are still bleeding from that stupid mirror. I'm sick of this life. That's all there is to it. There's a dull pounding at my door, but I can hardly hear it. I fall onto the floor butt first, crunching glass and other debris into tiny pieces under my weight. Looking up at the ceiling, I start laughing uncontrollably. It must've been a queue of sorts, because in that same moment, my bedroom door crashes open, Olga crying hysterically, but there's something pitiful about it. I guess all the noise I've been making was bound to draw someone's attention. Better her than Bob. Olga treads over my treacherous floor with reckless abandon in her effort to reach me. I incline my head upwards and she clutches me as though I'm her own child rather than her sister.

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_"Maybe today,  
We can put the past away,  
I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend,  
You could cut ties with all the lies, that you've been living in,_

And if you do not want to see me again,  
I would understand,  
I would understand,

_I would understand. . ."_

--Third Eye Blind

"Jumper"

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I'm looking up at her face as she holds me, tears running down from her mascara streaked eyes, and it's clear to me that I feel nothing. There's no hostility in me, but there's no warmth either. I'm completely empty. Somehow, it makes me more receptive to her. I clumsily put my arms around Olga, listening to each sob as she cries my name, referring to me as her beautiful baby sister. I can't remember the last time anyone showed me this level of concern, and now I can't even fully appreciate it. Odd, I know that I didn't always feel this sedated. I usually have something to say about everything. Now, it's as though things don't matter anymore. I recall feeling this way once before. After taking that bogus out-of-love potion, I was convinced that I could no longer feel anything. Turns out it was all in my head. This time, it seems more serious.

Olga cradles my hands lovingly, stroking my fingers, crying into my hair. . .are things really this severe? "It's okay, sis. I'm okay." I say quietly. Only I know that it's a lie. Oh sure, cuts will heal. I'm pretty resilient, physically speaking. You don't get very far playing baseball in the street if you can't take a little pain. It's the scars no one can see that worry me. I'm screwed up, and I know it. Maybe Olga knows it too. But the difference between Olga and my parents is that for some unfathomable reason, Olga cares about it. She cares about what happens to me. And it's rarely been mutual with me. It kind of makes it hard for me to hate her, when she has to go and do stuff like this, even if it does make me uncomfortable.

My sister fishes a photograph out of the detritus on the floor. Ironic how it's surrounded by pink books in disarray, perhaps standing guard over my heart's treasure. The one closest to me is lying open, its pages mocking me. I'm glad none of those drew her attention. I couldn't stand to hear my poetry recited back to me right now. The picture Olga is looking at is one I've had printed more times than I can remember. Every time the one I carry with me gets a little faded, I replace it. I couldn't bear to see him as others do. He'll always look this way to me—perfection personified. Some might say that that makes all the difference. I don't know if I'm that romantic anymore. When I look at his picture now, I don't know what to feel. Too bad Olga does.

"Why, Helga? Is it really worth all this?" I refuse to look at her. The fact that she needs an answer to that question proves how little she knows about me. "You love him, don't you, Baby Sister?" Doi! Instantly, I shoot her a look that lets her know I mean business. And this is clearly none of hers. On the plus side, I think I'm starting to feel stuff again. It sure beats the alternative. But I don't want her intruding into this. She's taken enough from me already. "I knew it. It's complicated, isn't it? I've never been able to understand those things myself. And ever since my engagement fell apart, I haven't really wanted to. But I know what it's like, waiting to be loved by that special someone. I can remember it clearly, Helga."

"Just shut up!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. Oh yeah, I'm definitely feeling more like my old self. And to think, all it took was Olga. Finally, a chance to tell her off properly! "What could you possibly know?! You've never been lonely in your entire life! How could you be? You're perfect! You've never had to go without. Bob and Miriam just can't get enough of you! I'm lucky if they even remember to feed me dinner! You could have any man you choose, yet I can't have just one! You've won every award there is! You have everything, Olga! You're smart! You're talented! You're popular! You're beautiful! You have it all! Everything you could ever imagine! And I'm nothing! Do you hear?! I hope that you're satisfied! Because the only things I have left are my thoughts and my feelings, and I won't let you have them!" I'm infuriated beyond belief that Olga won't let go of me. I'm ready to punch her one. The worst fate I could imagine is letting her see me cry. But there it is. I can't hold these tears back any more. I've been doing it my entire life.

"That's just it, Helga." Olga speaks as though I'd never unleashed that hateful tirade against her. How dare she ignore me! "It's your own feelings that are hurting you, because all you do is bottle them and shake. Don't you know what happens when you shake a can of Yahoo soda?! But you're right about Mommy and Daddy. And I do know how you feel, because I did go through it."

"Oh you lie!" I hissed back at her. "Be careful you don't choke on those words you lie so much! Like I'm supposed to believe any of this?! I may be a lot younger than you, sis, but I wasn't born yesterday!"

"This was a long time ago, Baby Sister. I was younger than you. And I was a quiet girl. I didn't have any awards or trophies. I wasn't a difficult child, but nothing about me stood out, either. I was alone. Mother was a lot busier back then. She still had a job, and she went to it every day after dropping me off at school. Daddy worked selling advanced communications equipment to businesses, that's how he broke into the beeper industry. And neither of them had much time for me. So I decided to make them notice me. I signed up for every after school activity there was. I studied music, literature, art, different sports, everything. I burned the candle at both ends to earn the highest marks. I did it all. I turned myself into a star. And suddenly, I became the center of their world.

"Well, that's just perfect, isn't it Olga? What you're saying is that my own parents will never accept me for who I am. That I have to mold myself into some sick carbon copy of you to make them see me. Well, that's not going to happen, **_Sis_**!" I spat the last word at her like an epithet.

"Then you won't be repeating the same mistake I made. You should live for yourself, not for others. Not for the approval of anyone else. I have been playing this part, this role of overachiever for so long that I no longer know how to be anything else. And I don't want the same thing to happen to you." Olga looks intently at my photograph of the most beautiful boy in the world. "The crazy things we do for love and acceptance." She said wistfully, smiling momentarily before coming out of the reverie. Then she turned back to me, my concerned sister once more. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"What do I possibly have to be afraid of?!"

"Are you afraid of what your little friends might think if they found out you aren't the tough as nails girl that you've made yourself out to be?"

"Spare me. I don't care what any of those geeks think! I do what I want, and I don't have to justify myself to anyone." Ha! That'll show her!

"I see. So what you're really afraid of is the rejection. That if you told him the truth, he wouldn't return your feelings, and you would be left alone."

I hate it when she's right. Good thing I don't have to take this crap if I don't want to. "Leave me alone, Olga!" I shouted, struggling to get away, but she held fast.

"Don't you see, Baby Sister, that this is your chance to show it?"

"Show what?! Let go of me!"

"Everyone wants to be loved, Helga. That's part of what makes us who we are. Your love, your affection for Arnold, is part of what makes you real. Haven't you ever stopped to consider that what you have to offer might be exactly what he's looking for? Tell me, does he have anyone he likes?"

I tried to wave off the unwelcome images of Ruth, Summer, and especially Lila, but I couldn't stop the imagery of them laughing at me, stealing away my birthright and claiming it as their own. I can't let such a thing to happen. I will not allow it! I was the one who was born for the express purpose of loving him. And none shall take that away from me! That's what I thought to myself, anyway. As for my nosy, older sister, "Who cares what that numbskull does in his spare time, anyway? It's a free country! If he wants to waste his time mooning over some bimbo, what's it to me?! It's not like it's any of my concern!"

"Then he is looking. So you should give him the love he seeks. If you really have those feelings, then don't torture yourself by hiding them. Show him what you really are. Love him. Support him. Accept him. And when you do, you just see if he doesn't reciprocate. Because from what I've seen, he's a boy with a lot of love in his heart, and I can't think of anyone who would be a better steward of it than you, Helga." Olga releases me. Finally! But somehow, I just know that she isn't done with me yet. She stands up, trying to avoid smashing more glass and splintered wood underfoot. The messy remains of my Arnold shrine stare at me in abject disapproval, frowning somehow. "Stop doing this to yourself, Baby Sister. I will put a lasting smile on your face. But I can't do it if you insist on fighting me all the way."

I looked at her, feeling such a mixture of shock and confusion that I didn't know if my little world could ever make sense again, not to give the impression that it bred much in the way of logic and reason to begin with. "Why do you even care, Olga? I've never liked you, never wanted to be close, never offered you anything but grief. Maybe I don't hate you, but I still can't stand you! More than a few moments of close, personal contact with you is enough to send me running, screaming into the night. The sad truth is that you and I are too different to ever really get along. I want as little to do with you as possible, Olga. The less I'm around you, the better I feel about you."

Olga turns away from me, and I know she's trying to hide her tears. Tears I had caused, because I always have to say what's on my mind, consequences be damned. She looks back at me, wiping tears out of her eyes and ruining her perfect makeup. "When your sister is in trouble, you're supposed to do something, Helga. It doesn't matter whether we get along or not. This is what sisters are for. You're supposed to do something."

"Oh, Criminey." I whined quietly, knowing she was breaking through my defenses. Once in my life, I do something nice for my stupid sister, and fate repays me by giving me a veritable wedgie with my own kindness. Can't she see that I've given up? All the fight has been drained out of me. It's over. Why is it that no matter what I do, I can't win? I can't get Arnold, no matter how I try. When I try to forget him, something always pulls me back in. It's like I'm doomed to misery and failure, no matter how I try. Why does God hate me so much?

"I'm going to fetch a garbage can, gloves, and the vacuum. We'd better fix this mess before Daddy notices; he'll be home sooner or later." Olga picks me up and carries me to the bathroom, plunking me down on the toilet. I don't protest, there just isn't any point. Besides, she owns me right now. "But first, let's get you cleaned up." She opens the medicine chest and assembles her tools. It hurts like hell as she pulls several small pieces of glass out of my feet with a pair of forceps. Fortunately, the mirror was thick, and I had apparently managed to avoid any tiny slivers. Just to be safe, Olga insists that I take a cold shower in the morning, so my pores don't open. Perfect. That's exactly how I want to start my day. I was wrong about the tweezers, though. The disinfectant is much, much more painful. I'm lucky enough to get an extra helping of the stuff on my wounded knuckles. From here on out, I stick to socking Brainy. It feels just as good, plus the kid's got a glass jaw. A few bandages and I'm on my way. Thankfully, she's forgiving enough to let me apply those on my own.

It isn't long before we're both cleaning the horror that has become my bedroom, also known as Ground Zero. There isn't really much for either of us to say. So we don't say much of anything, save for coordinating our cleanup efforts. I can't say that I'm disappointed. Olga made an extra large smoothie for Miriam, so we shouldn't be hearing from her for awhile. Big Bob is out with a large client and from down south, which is basically a nice way of saying that there are at least three men out in Hillwood tonight, drinking heavily and shoving dollar bills between some bombshell's boobs, and my father is one of them. And me? Well, I'm still stuck with the prospect of going back to school in the morning and facing the consequences of what I've done. That's it. I've changed my mind. Somebody please save me!

When Olga and I are finally finished with the cleanup, she looks at me with a smile. She wasn't happy about helping me retrieve my hairpiece, but I'm sure with a heavy duty cleaning, it will be as good as new. It's endured worse over the years. At least, I hope it has. "I think you know what you should do, Helga. So I'll leave you to it." You're darn right I know what to do. It's high time that I stop existing and start living. My hands are shaking as I reach for the phone, but somehow manage to grab it and dial his number. I just know my voice is going to crack. Still, it feels great to have finally taken control of my life. With this call, I'll apologize and get myself back in his good graces. I'm impressed that I'm able to let the phone ring twice before hanging up. What am I thinking?! Nothing good has ever transpired between the two of us over the phone. My eyes unwillingly dart to a loose floorboard where I stowed a tape I stole from Arnold's answering machine some time ago. No, I definitely don't want to go that route. I plunk myself down at my desk, opening a drawer and feeling instantly thankful that there were some things that escaped my childish wrath earlier today. I withdraw a writing tablet stocked with high quality paper and reach for my favorite pen, smiling to myself. I work much better in this medium anyway.

-

-

_"Yeah a man loves a woman, but he can't understand,  
Why she's sad when she stares, at the ring on her hand.  
Or she sits in some club, where the long shadows fall.  
Drops a coin in the jukebox, not the phone on the wall."_

--Hall & Oates

"So Close"

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Before I get into the notes from this chapter, I'll explain why there was no update last week. The truth is, I just needed a week off. Last time out was so dark and depressing that I couldn't go back into that place again. I needed some time away, lest I get dragged down with poor Helga.

So anyway, I took the week off, but I'm back now. And it feels good to be back. I'm sure you all missed me. I tried to put a lot of depth into this chapter. I wanted to work as much as I possibly could into here. Hopefully, all went smoothly. I did my best to capture differing emotions in Helga, and to bring her to some kind of rock bottom. I felt that was the only way she would ever listen to her sister. At the same time, I didn't want to put her in a completely hopeless place. She was in pretty deep, but I didn't want to leave her without a lifeline. I felt that I could truly make her shine within these depths, and I'm going to leave it to you to determine whether or not that happened.

Olga's presence also meant a lot to me, this was her entire reason for being in the story. I wanted her to finally do something for her sister, and I tried to give Olga some depth while I was at it, make her more three dimensional. Some people might not like the way I portrayed it, but I stand by my decision on that one. There probably aren't a lot of Olga fans out there anyway.

Feedback on this chapter means a lot to me. This is it, the penultimate release. I'm still scared at this progression, there's something about ending the story that sets me on edge. But I don't want it to go forever, and people start talking about the days when it used to be good. This is the ending I have been building to for one time. It's the fourth one I came up with, and I have to say, it's way better than the original idea. As I continue the commentary project, I'll probably discuss the other ideas I had for the ending. But first, I've got to bring this thing to its conclusion.

Before I sign off for this installment, I'd like to take the time to thank my two pre-readers, Shinji Langley and The J.A.M. The two of them helped keep my course straight and true. Your insight means a lot to me, guys. And I'll get to the e-mail soon. Thanks for all your love and support, just don't think it means you're not expected to review, heh heh.

Okay, I'm officially running out of things to say. I love this story, I love this community, and I'm going to be sad to see it all end. I promise to return later this year with a new story. Oh, that's right, this one isn't over yet. Check back next week for the finale! An in the meantime, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

12/13/04

6:27AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26


	22. A Letter From Earth

The Sweet Hereafter: A Letter From Earth

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Part XXXXII: Read Between The Lines

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_"This is a strange place, and extraordinary place, and interesting. There is nothing resembling it at home. The people are all insane, the other animals are all insane, the earth is insane, Nature itself is insane. Man is a marvelous curiosity. When he is at his very very best he is a sort of low grade nickel-plated angel; at is worst he is unspeakable, unimaginable; and first and last and all the time he is a sarcasm. Yet he blandly and in all sincerity calls himself the "noblest work of God." This is the truth I am telling you. And this is not a new idea with him, he has talked it through all the ages, and believed it. Believed it, and found nobody among all his race to laugh at it."_

--Mark Twain

"Letters From The Earth: Satan's Letter"

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Arnold lay on his bed, looking up through the skylight at the stars, trying to discern patterns out of chaos. A simple instinct of the human mind, producing form and logic out of nothingness. The night was cold, and a slight yet chill breeze wafted over the boy each time the wind blew. A flicker of motion caught the corner of Arnold's eye, something flashing past his window to the heavens. There was a sudden rush of cold air, and then the sky began raining down papers, falling in back and forth motions as they journeyed toward the floor and other objects, like the bed, and the computer desk. A small, cardboard tube landed directly behind Arnold with a quiet thud, and the boy turned his attention to it after making sure he had gathered up all the papers.

Arnold collected the papers into a stack, along with the roll, then turned his light on and slid back under the warm covers of his bed. He set the cardboard tube aside and leafed through the pages. Each one was written in beautiful script, every page flowing like a true work of art. Thankfully, each sheet was numbered, and it took only a few moment to get everything in order.

What followed was perhaps the single most riveting collection of words that Arnold would ever read:

_Arnold_

_If you are reading this, than I have, however briefly, managed to overcome my worser nature, and therein may lay some measure of hope. I am told that you had the pleasure of meeting a girl this weekend. Perhaps someday I shall have the pleasure of making the girl's acquaintance. I refer to her as "the girl," because I am not entirely certain who she was. In sooth, she may at one time have been me. It is possible that she remains some small part of me, but she is not me, for I am myself_

_It must then lead you to some confusion as to where the girl has gone, and whether you shall ever see her again. I don't know what I did with her, but she has submerged once more into the darkness. I know that you must be angry with me for what I have done, but it is my fond hope that you will believe me when I say that if you look closely, you might again view her out of the corner of your eye. For if she does reside in me, then she must be a part of everything that I do, and though I deserve not your mercy or understanding, I beseech you to look closer, and you may find her again._

_I have placed this parchment in your hands so that you might better understand our current predicament, and the crime I have so recently visited upon you. In your zealousness to care for me, despite being undeserving of it, I must now admit that I betrayed you on that cold night you came to rescue me on. You may yet be blissfully unaware, but I have left my mark upon your heart. You need not believe my words. Merely attempt to gain Lila's affections once more, or perhaps a different girl of your choosing. And if you do not think of me all the while, then you are stronger than you have any right to be. With so simple a kiss, we are now linked. It is not witchcraft or magic, unless of course, you count the magic of the human heart at work. The heart is a funny thing, and can be greatly influenced by so simple or physical act, or even a suggestion._

_Worser still is the thought that I have drawn you towards me yet have not allowed you any kind of safety net to release yourself with. I have spent many a night, looking upwards at the stars and wondering if I would ever be granted my wish. Truly, I wanted things to be better than this, for both of us. But I have a tendency of sabotaging my relationships with others, most of all you. Perhaps this is why I have left my feelings to be read in this shamefully anonymous letter, so that I may continue to deny them to all. And I will, this I promise you. _

_It would be best for you to seal these experiences in your memory and forget about me. Because for everything good that I might feel, I cannot deny that in the end, I will likely destroy you. I have built all the walls between us again, restored them, perhaps made them stronger and higher. I have done this so that you might be saved. This is the sorrow I tried to warn you about. The pain we are going through now is what I was looking to avoid. This is why I asked you to stay. To nurture the girl you met, instead of the monster that is here now. I wanted something better for the both of us. But maybe this always has been our fate. You are not the one who needs to change, but rather I. It may be too late for me to be saved, and I do not desire you to squander your precious resources on one as wretched as I. Try to believe that it is enough for me to know that you can see something better in myself, that there is light within the darkness. In the times when you are uncertain of yourself, when you feel bested and useless, find solace in the thought that the light that exists in me is because of you. _

_If you persist in following me, as much as it shall make my heart soar, be aware that I will likely be the cause of unequivocal pain of all kinds. Nevertheless, you are deserving of the truth, may it assist you in choosing your path. _

_By now, you know full well the longing of the heart. My own never bothers me much, except, of course, for the inconvenience of feeling a large pit the size of Texas opening up within your stomach. My hope is that this will help you gain perspective. If ever you feel cold and beaten, when you just can't win for losing and you are certain that no matter how many girls you trust with your heart, none will ever consent to give you theirs, remember that you shall always have mine. For what it's worth now, I do love you, and I always have. Words on a mysterious parchment are a poor excuse, I know, but I have been unable to find any other way of delivering the message. _

_You may keep the ribbon as a memento, perhaps a testament to the fact that I am real and that I do exist. However, I am aware that you are most likely angry enough by now to not want triggers for bad memories lying around. If so, please discretely place it in the hands of my confidant, and it will be returned to me, no questions asked. _

_I know not what you will choose to believe, but regardless of where you decide to go from here, I will keep a candle burning in my foolish heart for you. Try to remember that the next time I frustrate you. It's the only thing I know how to give properly._

_Sincerely,_

_H._

Arnold sighed, opening the tube. Clearly, this was a lot to think about. There was still a lot he needed to discuss with Helga. Arnold twisted the plastic cap off the bottom of the tube and upturned it. A pink bow nearly fell into his lap. Clever of her. But there was something else. Arnold reached inside and pulled. After about half a minute's worth of work, he managed to free a rolled series of stapled pages. More of Helga's prose. Arnold did his best to smooth them out as he looked at the newest letter.

_Dearest Arnold,_

_It took me a full fifteen minutes to be able to add the last three letters to that greeting. I'd like to consider it progress, but I digress. If you are still reading, I count myself fortunate. I continue finding more that I must say. It's not that the first letter was wrong, so much as that I feel I owe you a little more. So I decided to make this one a bit more personal. Of course, I also had to hide it to make sure it didn't fall into the wrong hands, so I hope you look in this piece of cardboard carefully. Otherwise all my hard work will have been for naught. _

_There are numerous confessions that I have to make, and pray that you will not hate me too much. You cannot imagine the things I have done. But I have to tell you, so that you might know me fully. I couldn't bear it if you chose the danger without knowing what you are getting into. So what follows is a list of my sins and transgressions. Forgive me if anything escapes this list, but I have done more things than even I can remember._

_Many months ago, you were in possession of a small, pink book filled with poetry. Perhaps you still have it. As you may now have deduced, its contents were written by me. I tore the last page that one morning to prevent you from finding out it was I who wrote those poems. As I recall, you didn't care for them. You thought they were a joke. I guess I'll give you that once since my crimes are far greater. Even if it did shatter my being to hear you mock the words of my heart and soul. Okay, I know it's a guilt trip, but I'm trying to build up some good will in the bank. Trust me, I'm going to need it. _

_I might as well start with the biggest confession. Or maybe it's the second biggest, I'm not sure. There's no good way to lead up to this, so I'm just going to come right out and say it. We've been out on a date before. You just didn't know it, because I tricked you. I'm doing it again, aren't I? I'm sorry, I can't tell you this right now. If I'm going to work up the nerve to admit the truth, I require hot chocolate. You'd better get some too. Think of it as our first real date, drinking hot chocolate together. . .that sounded a lot less corny before I wrote it down. And if you ever tell anyone I said this, I'll kick a field goal with your head! Now, go make some of that chocolate. Don't worry, I'll meet you right back here._

Arnold chuckled to himself, but nonetheless found himself obeying Helga's orders. He walked downstairs, contemplating the issue. He had already been on a date with Helga? That made no sense whatsoever. What did make sense was why she had so many confessions. If she truly harbored these secret feelings for him, this was liable to be a long night. There was always the chance he would learn more than he cared to know, but it was too late to go back now. Arnold had wanted to understand Helga Pataki all his life, he wasn't about to back down now. While Arnold was waiting for the water to boil, Arnold let Abner out into the yard and placed a treat in his dish. So what if it was going to be a long night? It might also be a chance to go where none other had, unraveling the mysteries of Helga. After preparing his hot beverage and making sure that his faithful pet was safely inside the house and had found the treat, Arnold tip-toed back up to his room, hot chocolate in hand. Setting the mug on his nightstand, he shut his lights off and grabbed the flashlight from one of his drawers. Getting comfortable once more in his bed, he turned the flashlight on and took a sip of his hot chocolate before returning to the note.

_So what took you so long, Football Head? Do you just enjoy keeping a girl waiting? I mean criminey, that's awfully inconsiderate! I'm pretty surprised at you! Fine then, now that you're here. . .the truth. Arnold? I'm Cecile. I was that girl you met in the restaurant on Valentine's Day. I can prove it if you need me to. It seemed like a good idea at the time, impersonating your pen pal. I just wanted you to pay attention to me. I wanted to be close to you, even if it couldn't be real. Even if it was only for one night. I can admit that what I did was wrong. And I am sorry. I had no right. And it isn't the only underhanded thing I've done, all in the name of my love for you. Maybe I was just. . .trying to reinvent myself, become a girl that you could fall in love with. _

_I wish that was the only thing that I have to confess. But there is one thing even worse than this one. It's the reason why I hate Little Miss Perfect so much. Because I'm the one that put you onto her. When she approached you originally, and wanted you to be her significant other, it was because of me. One day, in a fit of sexual frustration, I wrote our names on a wall in a giant heart, so I could finally express my feelings for you somehow. Then I heard people coming, and I freaked out, fearing I would be made a laughing stock. So I changed my name to Lila's and ran. And ever since that stupid afternoon, I've been in incredible pain. It was an unintentional gaffe on my part, but the damage has been done and it is you who must live with that heartache and sorrow, and for this I cannot ask for apology or mercy. Without me, you wouldn't have developed your feelings for her, and you wouldn't get hurt so often. I am a monster, Arnold, and I deserve your hate._

_Remember when we starred together in Romeo & Juliet? It was never supposed to be me opposite you. But when I learned about your playing the leading man, I refused to rest until I secured the part of Juliet. And it was a lot of work to get there, let me tell you. I lied. I cheated. I blackmailed. I connived my own best friend. I did everything I could to keep the others out of that spotlight. Yet another reason why I despise Lila. I had to tell her the truth to get her to back down for me. And that may have been the hardest thing I've had to do in my life. Except maybe for telling you all of these things. There was just no way I could allow you to kiss anyone but me. I would die inside. I can't stalk you all day long, so maybe someone else beat me to it. You don't belong to me, and I'm wrong to try and monopolize you. And I lied. Of course I wanted to kiss you! You're the only boy I ever will. But grant me something. It wasn't so bad kissing me, was it? I haven't exactly had a lot of practice. . .but I'm willing to keep working at it. And you make one heck of a Romeo. _

_-_

_-_

_Sorry, I had to stop writing this for a bit. That last confession took me back to that night, and I had to go cuddle up in my bed and relive that moment as I have countless times already. But there have been better, now. You finally kissed me back Saturday night, and you'll never know what was like for me. It was. . .excuse me._

_-_

_-_

_Sometimes I just lose control. It may happen more than once, in fact, it already has, so bear with me. I'm only baring my soul for you._

_Remember that time you lost your hat and I returned it to you? I had planned on keeping it forever, and then I had to go and get a conscience attack. Your scent was perfect. I remember just burying my face inside it when I needed strength. I guess that time, something good finally came out of my feelings for you. I did the right thing. Don't think it was easy, though._

_It was no accident that you didn't meet Ruth at the Cheese Festival. I went to a lot of trouble to keep the two of you apart. I ended up hurting myself in the process, but I lived. Sure, so what if I ended up alone and empty? Oh, all those mishaps you and Lila had last time? Yeah, that was me too. I know how terrible I am. But I couldn't stand it! You asked her to go with you and it was like I didn't even exist. But why should you ever think of me, when I do nothing but torment you. I'm sorry about all that. You saved her that night. No matter what I did to you two, she just ended up liking you more. Now that I think about it, maybe you owe me for that one. Y'know, I still remember how we worked together to make her jealous by pretending you and I were an item. Too bad I was never faking. I know it was short lived, but those were some of the happiest days I can remember. _

_I remember Thanksgiving, that time we went over to Simmons' house. It wasn't the best of days for either of us when we started. But I had a good time. It felt good to know that for all our differences, your holiday was turning out just as crummy as mine. It made me feel closer to you. That there was something to tie us together, something we have in common. You always do that, right when I'm on the verge of giving in to my misery for good. You give me some measure of hope, make me believe that someone like you could actually love me. And then I find the strength to keep going._

_That weekend when we had to pretend to be husband and wife, raising our egg, all we did was argue. I think we still owe each other an apology for that. You never gave me a chance, Arnold. And that hurt. Because whether or not you believe me, I had intended to be nice to you that weekend. It was a perfect chance to make a new start with you, to show you that I'm not the sadist you had me pegged for. But you didn't give me a chance. Maybe I deserved that treatment, I'd never been nice to you in the past. But that wasn't the Arnold I know. That wasn't the boy I fell in love with six years ago. Still, we managed to get through it, and we saw the miracle of life first hand. I'll never forget that part._

**_"As I travel in space and time,_**

**_I want to stay, I want to go_**

**_You see my face but it's not mine_**

**_What you can't see, you'll never know_**

**_How can we meet, if I'm not there?_**

**_Our hearts may touch, our bodies close_**

**_But time divides what we might share_**

**_And sends a soul where no one goes_**

**_I'm just a traveler_**

**_Upon the sea_**

**_Of time, of life, of Fate's wide wheel_**

**_Just a traveler_**

**_In this mystery_**

**_The me_****_ I am_**

**_Is all that's real to me_**

**--Scott Bakula**

**"Fate's Wide Wheel"**

_Remember that costume party Rhonda threw, and I showed up as Lila? That was all for you. It pains me to see that I have gotten that desperate. I just want you to like me, Arnold. And I know how highly you think of Lila. So I tried to become her for you. It was stupid and immature, but I couldn't think of any other ideas. Maybe the scary part is that it worked. You and I spent most of that party together. And it was fun. Until you called me Lila. And then I finally realized what I was doing. That I had finally gone too far. I allowed my love to blind me, and I had become so desperate for your approval that I lost sight of the reality. I want you to return my feelings. I want you to fall for me. But somewhere along the line, I had crossed a line—transformed myself into a desperate person. You weren't having a good time with me. You were having a good time with Lila. So I put an end to it. And then you walked away. You walked away from me and I felt like I was dying. Did that entire evening we spent flirting mean nothing?! Don't you know how that made me feel?!_

-

-

Here, a large break appeared. There were several stains, where water or. . .were they tear stains? Whatever they were, Helga was forced to skip down several lines to a new section where she could write without the ink smudging. Arnold gulped, feeling a little disconcerted about what might lie ahead.

_I'm sorry. I told you, you might have to bear with me. That memory stirs up a lot of bad feelings for me. I'm sorry about what I just accused you of. That isn't fair, because I am no less guilty. But it still hurts because of what we did. We used each other, Arnold._

Immediately, the letter fell out of Arnold's hands, and he felt ashamed. Helga was right. They had used each other. Sure, she was just trying to look and act like the person he'd like so she could get his attention. But he had used her to live out his fantasy of a perfect date with Lila. And unlike Lila, Helga hadn't resisted, hadn't reminded him that she only liked him as a friend. She was ready and willing to be what he wanted. He had even gone so far as to call her Lila, allowing himself to become immersed in the fantasy completely. And Helga was worried about him hating her? Sure, the girl had done some rotten things, and made his life miserable plenty of times. But she hadn't done anything as bad as he had. And for the past few months, he had been sleeping easily and with a clean conscience. He felt like he needed to take a shower. "Helga, I'm sorry." Arnold whispered quietly, taking a deep swig of his chocolate and forcing himself to continue.

_I wish we could take that night back, but it's too late now. I regret what I did. And I have no doubt that you feel the same way. We have to live with it. After all, it was what we both wanted at the time. Truth be told, I'd probably have let you go right on using me until you used me up. Maybe in the future we'll be more considerate of our feelings, especially since I've told you everything, now. But no more trying to pretend I'm something that I'm not. I risk outright rejection by telling you this, but please. . .see me as I am. Because if there's one thing I learned these past few days, it's that I like who I am better when I'm around you._

_I wish that was all, but there's something else. There's always something else. It's never that easy, is it? About a month ago, you beaned me with a stray baseball and I lost my memory for two days. I hate admitting this, but I was faking it. Don't get me wrong, it was real, at first. In fact, I don't remember anything of you walking me home, making me dinner, or tucking me into bed. I never would have known if Miriam hadn't reminded me the next morning. Which, coincidentally, was when my memory returned. You were so attentive to me that I didn't want it to end. And so, I faked it from that point on. I wanted you all to myself. And you were a prince. You were perfect. You went above and beyond the call of duty. I fell in love with you all over again. And I would still be pretending today if it weren't for one thing. It wasn't fair to you. You were rearranging your whole life to spend time with me, to accommodate a lie. And I. . .I love you too much to let that happen. I want to be with you, Arnold, but I want it to happen because you want it too. Not because you feel you have to make it up to me. So I staged a scene where I could hit my head again and magically return to normal. I know, pretty good, wasn't I? Come on, admit it. You never suspected, never would have if I hadn't told you just now. I've had a lot of practice._

_Despite all these things, I still hold out hope for us. Maybe part of it is me being a hopeless romantic, but come on! The Princess predicted that you and I would be married a hundred and ten times. Who are we to try and buck those odds? I think it's worth a shot. Because I'm still trying. I want you to see me, Arnold. All I've ever really wanted is for you to look at me as a woman instead of the bullying tomboy that you're used to. I know that I have a record of being cold and cruel. I know that I'm not a girl made of hearts and flowers, that I'm not much to look at, that I'm nothing like the kind of girlfriend you would ever imagine for yourself. But I love you, Arnold. I love you, just as I am, I love you for what you are. I was born to love you. And if that doesn't mean something then you aren't the boy I thought you are. Then I've been wrong all these years. So I'm asking. I'm asking you to take a chance on me. To risk your heart on me. And I stand by what I said. I may end up destroying you. I'll certainly hurt you, because it's my nature. I don't have any right to ask you, after what I've done, but here I am anyway. I'm just a pathetic wretch of a girl who doesn't want you to give up on her. Who knows her salvation when she sees it but never sees fit to do anything about it. Well I'm taking the step. I don't want to be alone anymore. I need you in my life. And after reading all this, if you still don't hate me, if you are willing to face my cruelty, then you know where to find me. Talk to Phoebe if you're crazy enough to give me a chance, and she'll give you a way to contact me away from the prying eyes of others. If you must decline, simply return the ribbon to her, and we'll both pretend this letter was never written._

_So that's the whole truth. My letter from Earth. I wonder if it makes Clemens proud? Even I can love, Arnold. I've known you were the one since I was three years old. It might not be easy for you to understand that, but it has defined my existence. Sure, it's made me a little crazy, but if you weren't in my life, I know that I would probably be far worse a person than I usually act like. For six long years, you've unwittingly been my left arm. My conscience and my guide. My little voice of reason. The angel on my shoulder to balance the devil. Okay, too many metaphors, I know. I've been slaving over this thing for nearly eight hours now, Football Head. That's why I wasn't in school today. Relax, I'm going back tomorrow. I've missed enough as it is. It's just. . .now that I've finally said all these things, I don't know how to sign off or say goodbye. I'm a little scared to give you the opportunity to reject me, especially given what a long shot this is. But at least it's right. I finally told you. If you doubt what I said here, try and remember what I told you that night at the top of FTI headquarters. Maybe hearing it straight from me works better than words on paper, I don't know. I'm rambling. I'm going now, Football Head. I hope you're still able to sleep tonight. After finally coming clean with all this, I'd like to think that I'll sleep like a baby, but the truth is that I'll probably have to be reminded to breathe until I know what your decision is. Funny world, isn't it? Love is supposed to be this unstoppable, unbreakable force. Nobody ever talks about how it makes you insecure and crazy. Sweet dreams, Arnold._

_All my love,_

_Helga G. Pataki_

-

-

Arnold noticed how beautiful her signature was at the bottom of the last page, almost as though it were done in calligraphy. He found it difficult to reconcile the decidedly feminine, flowing script with the coarseness of Helga's usual outward appearance. Chalk another one up for not judging a book by its cover.

Arnold finished his chocolate and picked up Helga's bow once more, twirling it over in his hands as he had done at the hospital on Friday. And now he finally knew everything there was to know about Helga. And he had a decision to make. "Now I know how Hamlet must've felt" Arnold sighed, thinking about Mr. Simmons recitation of the classic speech,

**_"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer _**

**_The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,  
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,  
And by opposing end them?"_**

Whatever he did next, it seemed as though this would truly be the end of an era. No doubt about it, what Helga asked was difficult. And she even told him she would make it difficult on him because of how she is. She was warning him away. Perhaps it would be wise to heed her advice and run away. And yet at the same time, she begged him to give her a chance. To put himself on the line for her. But if he did, would it be worth it? Would he work day in and out at building a relationship with Helga only for her to repeatedly smash it?

What did he want? Twice that weekend she had kissed him, and twice he had found the experience agreeable. There was something there in those moments when they were alone, something they brought out in each other. The girl was undeniably crazy. But she was also brilliant. Moreover, despite her cruelty, she had something no one else was offering. "She loves me." Perhaps not openly. Maybe it would be a long time before they would ever do something like hold hands in public or go on a date where they would be seen.

A fearful thought crossed Arnold's mind, however. _What if I just end up using her? Do I really want to be with her? Or am I just doing it because there isn't anyone else?_ Again, he felt a lump in his throat, and all the different outcomes this could have in the future. Some were agreeable. Some were a dream come true. Some were sad, and one frightened him to his core. And all of a sudden, Arnold envied Helga. She had the easy part. All she had to do was come clean. He was the one who had to deal with the hard choices. He turned his flashlight off and stared at the stars in the night sky again, this time looking not for patterns, but for answers, some kind of sign as to which would be the best course of action for both of them. It was a star right in the middle of Orion's belt that provided the response he needed. Arnold clutched Helga's ribbon and made his decision.

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I'd like to start by thanking everyone for being here. Writing this story has been one amazing journey that has lasted over three months, and I can't help but feel a bit empty and sad that it's over now. So many of you have gone to excess in your love and support, and I truly thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Writing this story has been a truly exhaustive experience, and I couldn't have done it without you. I was encouraged back when I had nothing but a sliver of an idea and less than an even basic knowledge for what I was getting into. Yet with each update, I was assured that I was growing, becoming stronger. In the process, I feel like poor Helga became something of my own child, I've become very fatherly with her. I also have the pain of seeing too much of myself in her, and it makes me want to keep striving to make her better. But that would deprive her of that opportunity, and I won't do that. I won't take it all away from her.

I'd like to give thanks and credit where it's due. I'm going to start by thanking Shinji Langley, Gerard Dominus, and Lord Canti for giving me so much encouragement throughout this process. You guys also did a lot of the pre-reading, and you each deserve a big hand for putting up with all my little mistakes and helping me turn out a better product. Special thanks also to my top reviewer, The J.A.M, who never missed a single chapter, and also looked over Chapter 21 and helped me make it truly special. I would also like to take this opportunity to dedicate the entire work to Wyldheart, a woman of constant inspiration who always manages to put a smile on my face. She has given me so much, and asks so little in return, and I'm eternally grateful for the opportunity to talk to her from time to time.

Many other readers and reviewers like yourself deserve some credit, so I'm going to try and squeeze as many of you as I can into here. This list is in no particular order, because I couldn't possibly say I value one review over another unless it was extremely shallow. So without further ado, I'd like to thank:

Roxynomekop1288, for always finding something fresh and original to say about my work and how much you enjoy it

Number 6, for slowly yet diligently working through my story. It is my fond hope that people will continue to find and enjoy this fic even after it stops getting a weekly bump to the top.

Cat61, your reviews are among the most in depth and help me see things that sometimes I don't. I hope you have better luck signing onto FFN in the future.

Inferna, for wishing for more each time. It's requests like that that helped me keep facing the horrors of the blank page.

DarthRoden, for being one of my earliest supporters and not forgetting about me. You've been a real success, I see, and I want to return the favor. I look forward to tearing into a few of your stories now that this one is finished.

Athena Lionfire19, for giving me hope against the near perfection that is "Dark Salvation." I absolutely love that story, but it was also very hard to have consistently been updating against it, has a habit of making you feel small when you're forced to stand next to someone better than yourself.

Of course, it isn't all about reviews. I owe my success to a great many others. Undying gratitude to Craig Bartlett, the Snee-Oosh staff, and Viacom for bringing the product to television and theaters. Without the characters created and designed by Craig and his close associates, none of this would've been possible. Thanks to Zach Braff for writing, directing, and starring in the film "Garden State," a motion picture that had a tremendous amount of influence on my own story, and which has also had a large impact on my own life. Thanks to Studio Shinyo, whose page of quotes I shamelessly scoured, providing wisdom, insight, and fun to you throughout this work. Thanks to John Logan, for writing the script to "Star Trek: Nemesis." As a Trekker, I was never very impressed with the film, but it has some incredible dialogue, and I did borrow a wee bit here and there. Credit where credit is due. Thanks to Francesca Smith, Toran Caudell, Philip Van Dyke, and Spencer Klein for voicing the two primary characters in this work, breathing life into them and making each truly alive.

This story just kept growing and growing, folks. Even now, I hesitate to let it all end. Each time I thought I had gotten it, I could hear Helga whisper in my ear that I wasn't digging deep enough. And then I would be forced to delve into that abyss again and look inside my own fear and pain. It does hurt to leave it now, but I can't do everything. I have to allow Helga to stand on her own, sink or swim on her own merits, or I might smother her.

I know that you will miss this story. I miss it already, and I haven't even posted this final installment. I offer us all this consolation, this isn't the only story I have hiding in my stable for the HA fandom. I'll get to that in a minute.

If you want to know what I'm doing next, I'll be returning to work on "Awakening: Third Stage." I'm starting to get a lot of threats about that, and I do want to return to the work. I urge you all to follow that story, even though it isn't an HA work. There is going to be a Fourth Stage to it as well, and this one will be featuring none other than Helga Pataki in a very large way, and I know a lot of you would enjoy that. I hope you'll follow me. I promise to make it worth you while?

Starving for some more straight up HA enjoyment with no strings attached? I'm pleased to announce that my next HA story, tentatively titled "Instant Gratification," will begin releasing in July 2005. Look for the first trailer for that fic to be posted just after Christmas, I'll post it as one last chapter of "The Sweet Hereafter" and give it one more bump. I am very excited about that story, and those I have given the basic premise to think it will be wonderful, so I'll love to hear what you think.

And now, for a few secrets. I've seen some excellent episodes in the past three months, but would it surprise most of you to know that I still have not seen critical installments such as "Arnold's Valentine" and "Married?" I did my best to keep up on research and incorporate everything I could to build you a better story, so that the characters would not end up reading as though they are somehow incomplete. I hope it all worked for you. Now that I'm done, I will also be chipping away at the commentary to each chapter regularly. The story behind the story is interesting in its own way, and I hope that at least a few people out there would like to know more.

Don't forget your soundtrack to "The Sweet Hereafter" on your way out. I recommend the following tunes to put you in the right mood if you ever want to re-read this thing.

Billy Joel—I Go To Extremes; And So It Goes

Coldplay—I Ran Away

Crosby, Stills, & Nash—Suite: Judy Blue Eyes

Fear Factory—Zero Signal

Frou Frou—Let Go

Gilbert O'Sullivan—Alone Again, Naturally

Jars Of Clay--Flood

Iron And Wine/The Postal Service—Such Great Heights

Kathleen Wilhoite—Wish We Never Met

Mr. Hyunh (Randy Travis)—The Simple Things

Natalie Imbruglia—Smoke

Pink Floyd—One Of My Turns

Remy Zero--Fair

Scott Bakula—Fate's Wide Wheel

Simon & Garfunkely—Scarborough Fair/Canticle

Something For Kate—Déjà vu  
The Beatles—She's Leaving Home

The Offspring—Have You Ever

They Might Be Giants—No One Knows My Plan; Why Must I Be Sad?

Third Eye Blind—Jumper

Tom Lehrer—The Wiener Schnitzel Waltz

Vanessa Carlton—A Thousand Miles

Vertical Horizon—Miracle

William Shatner—It Hasn't Happened Yet, That's Me Trying, What Have You Done

Zero 7—In The Waiting Line

I'm sure with a little work, you'll be able to acquire some if not all of the works in question. All of this music helped to inspire me in the writing of this fanfiction, and I pass it along to you to help paint a more complete picture.

Well, what else are we supposed to do now? I think I'm about winding down to the end here. I keep wanting to find other things to say, to put off the inevitable need to sign off. It's like when you go to the movie theater, and you see a movie that just totally blew you away, and you don't want to get up and leave. You're sitting there through all the credits hoping the thing won't ever end, even though everyone else has gone. Of course, sometimes you get lucky and there's a little Easter egg after the credits, so it's all good, right?

I guess all good things have to come to an end sometime. Just the fact that so many of you out there discovered my silly little story and became enthralled by it, that means something. It made it all worthwhile. I look forward to seeing you all again soon. Being a part of a fandom like this, it's very heartwarming. This is my first story to go platinum here at FFN, and you all helped to make that happen, chapter by chapter. Thank you. And pass it on to someone else in the future. Fanfiction is how we have to keep the great works alive after the greedy corporate monsters decide they aren't profitable enough anymore.

Don't worry, I won't forget the trailer for my next HA fanfic. I should have it out by next week. I'm not going anywhere. If you have any questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, or ransom demands, send them to me:

Lord Malachite

12/20/04

4:07AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

AIM: Asukaphile26

And of course, reviews are welcomed and encouraged as well. Thanks for everything, you are all the best. I look forward to working with you again soon.

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The night was cold, colder than Arnold had thought. Perhaps stepping up to the roof of the boarding house in his pajamas wasn't the smartest thing he could have done, but for some reason, it felt imperative for him to do this as quickly as possible, or else he might not sleep soundly for several weeks. The chill wind was blowing fiercely into his room now that the window at the top was open. Fortunately, it would only take a moment to get the job done. Carefully, Arnold undid Helga's bow until he was left with a long, pink piece of fabric. He then slid the ribbon under the handle he normally used to open the window from the outside, but it took several attempts with the wind unraveling his plan. Finally, with a little patience, Arnold had managed to retie the ribbon around the handle in the form of the bow Helga normally wore in her hair, or at least, a reasonable facsimile of it. The wind blew it about, but his knot held tightly. The bow wasn't going anywhere. Which was fine by Arnold, because as far as he was concerned, it was exactly where he wanted it. Arnold was about to climb back inside his room, but he found himself stopping for a moment to enjoy his handiwork. Suddenly, the night wasn't so cold after all.

Only a few blocks away, a girl with blonde hair in a frayed winter coat huddled down on the roof of her home, staring through a pair of binoculars at a shivering boy in pajamas, working with a familiar piece of ribbon. The biting cold that had been biting into her intensities instantly evaporated, and tears began spilling down her face. She didn't care if they froze. Olga had been right. It was a scary thought, but undeniable. There are always possibilities, even in the darkest hour. And even if the darkness continued its attempts to close in and consume her, she now had a torchbearer to light the way and keep the dark at bay. The girl let out a contented sigh and made her way back inside. The future may be uncertain, but from where she was standing, it was bright for the first time in her entire life.

-

-

_"Drink up baby down_

_Are you in or are you out?_

_Leave your things behind_

_'Cause it's all going off without you_

_Excuse me, too busy, you're writing your tragedy_

_These mess-ups_

_You bubble wrap_

_When you've no idea what you're like_

_So let go (let go)_

_Jump in_

_Oh well, what you waiting for?_

_It's all right_

_'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

_So let go (let go)_

_Just get in_

_Oh, it's so amazing here_

_It's all right_

_'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

_It gains the more it gives_

_And then advances with the form_

_So, honey, back for more_

_Can't you see that all this stuff's essential?_

_Such boundless pleasure_

_We've no time for later _

_Now you can wait_

_You roll your eyes_

_We've twenty seconds to comply_

_So let go (let go)_

_Jump in_

_Oh well, what you waiting for?_

_It's all right_

_'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

_So let go (let go)_

_Just get in_

_Oh, it's so amazing here_

_It's all right_

_'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown"_

--Frou Frou

"Let Go"

-

-

**_Fin de Siecle_**


	23. Instant Gratification Trailer

Stinky: In just two days we're outta here, fellers. It's about time we toast to the best months of our lives.

Arnold: I don't know, Stinky. I have a lot of stuff to do this summer. . .

Sid: What are you, crazy? Bow howdy, Arnold, this is Graduation Summer!

Arnold: So?

Sid: SO? Don't you get it? This is the last free period of our entire lives! And we have to spend it just the right way!

Arnold: Getting ready for college?

Sid: No! Don't you know anything?! This summer, you're not supposed to do anything but party and get laid!

-

-

**_Only two days from freedom. . ._**

-

-

Arnold: I just don't think I'll ever understand youth culture, Gerald.

Gerald: Hey, you do what you want. Look, I can party as hard as the next guy. But I am not about to ruin my life because I got high or drunk and damn near killed myself. Anyway, didn't you have a plan for this summer?

Arnold: Yeah. I was going to ask Lila to marry me. But then I remembered that she'd never say yes.

Gerald: You're a sick boy, Arnold, a sick boy. Besides, even if she did say yes, the divorce would kill you.

Arnold: No way Gerald! I would never get a divorce!

-

-

Helga: This is perfect! Arnold said he'll never get a divorce! Suddenly, this summer seems like a lot more fun. . .

-

-

Gerald: You have been in like a constant state of depression for practically the entire year, Arnold. Now we're going to Rhonda's party tonight, and you're going to have a good time!

Arnold: But I just don't think. . .

Gerald: No arguments!

-

-

Arnold: This is a great party, Rhonda. I was a little apprehensive about coming, but I'm actually enjoying myself.

Rhonda: Daddy said I should send us all off with style.

Gerald: I'd say you've got that covered in spades.

Rhonda: Thanks. And I'd say that style is something you're pretty keen on.

Gerald: Oh, I've been known to keep up with a trend or two.

Rhonda: I have a new arrival in my wardrobe from Milan. Drop by my room later and I'll show it to you. (winks, walks off camera)

Arnold: Gerald. . .

Gerald: What?

Arnold: Never mind. . .

-

-

Harold: I'm only gonna ask her!

Sid: Yeah right, Harold. I mean c'mon, like Rhonda Wellington Lloyd would let you so much as sniff her panties let alone spend a night with you!

Stinky: Yeah! It's like you're trying to shoot a turkey at five hundred paces or something, Harold!

Harold: She would too! Why I bet--"

Sid: Guys, relax. The night is young. Trust me. We're all going home with someone tonight.

-

-

Arnold: Helga! What are you doing here? I thought you were out picking up the vegetable platters?

Helga: Huh? Oh! Right! I was I just, um. . .I wanted to get some punch first, that's all. Care for some?

Arnold: Yeah, thanks Helga.

Helga: (muttering) Oh, don't thank my yet, boy. You'll thank me properly later.

-

-

Gerald: Arnold? Are you feelin' okay?

Arnold: Actually, no. I think I'm just going to lie down. Or maybe. . . (sound of body hitting floor)

Stinky: Willikers! He's out cold!

Helga: All right, one side geek baits. Lemme through. I took CPR last semester, you know?

Rhonda: Is he all right? He's ruining my party!

Helga: He's fine princess. Just go back to your little party. I'll take the Football Head to the doctor in case anything develops.

-

-

_**Dreams are about to come true. . .**_

-

-

Helga: Next stop, Vegas!

Curly: So long, suckers!

(slamming of brakes)

Helga: Curly? Get out. This romantic getaway only has room for two.

Curly: So ditch the dead weight and lets you and me light up the strip, darlin'

(Helga picks Curly up at the stoplight and throws him out the window)

Curly: So what time should I pick you up?

-

-

_Hey little sister what have you done  
Hey little sister who's the only one  
Hey little sister who's your superman  
Hey little sister who's the one you want  
Hey little sister shot gun!_

-

-

Helga: You'd think someone would've thought not to build Las Vegas in the middle of the freakin' desert!

Cop: Yeah, how inconsiderate of us.

-

-

_It's a nice day to start again  
It's a nice day for a white wedding  
It's a nice day to start again._

-

-

Phoebe: Does anyone even know what happened to those two?

Rhonda: Phoebe, we're trying to have a party here.

Phoebe: But what if Arnold is really hurt and she had to take him to the emergency room or something.

Rhonda: Fine, if it makes you feel better, I'll call the police for you. . .

-

-

Handler: We have a variety of rings to choose from. What would you and the groom be interested in.

Helga: Whatever's cheapest, and make it snappy, bucko.

Handler (scowling): Any special vows you had prepared?

Helga: Yeah, the "I do" part. I'm in a hurry here, and— (Helga honks the horn) HEY! Move it, lard ass! I ain't got all night back here! Save the honeymoon for the hotel!

-

-

_Hey little sister who is your with  
Hey little sister what's your fasinish  
Hey little sister shot gun (oh yeah)  
Hey little sister who's your superman  
Hey little sister shot gun!_

-

-

Justice: Miss, is your groom alright?

Helga: Sorry. You have no idea how much he had to drink to ask me to marry him. . .

Justice: Really, I can't imagine why. . .

Helga (stifling a growl): Look pal, my plastic was approved, so can you just get to the part where we say our "I do's" and get out on our way? (swings her rear view mirror towards him) Because I really don't think the couple behind us is going to wait for the wedding.

Justice: Oh my. . .

-

-

_It's a nice day to start again (come on)  
It's a nice day for a white wedding  
It's a nice day to start again._

-

-

Arnold blinking his eyes in the sunlight, looks to his right to see a half-empty bottle of wine, then to his left to see a half-dressed Helga, sleeping soundly in the fetal position, snoring, then screams

Helga (waking up): Huh? What. . .geez, Arnoldo, it's about time you woke up. Last time I listen to Curly about dosages on that stuff. . .

Arnold: What in God's name is going on? Where are we?

Helga: Las Vegas, Football Head. The city of sin. Speaking of which, wouldn't you like to—

Arnold: NO!

Helga: Now, now. There's no reason to be so shy. After all, we're man and woman now. (looks longingly at the ring on her finger)

Arnold looks down at his hand to see its twin, screams, and jumps out of the bed, running for the bathroom

Helga (laughing smartly): You can run all you like, bucko, but you can't hide!

-

-

Gerald: She did what?

Arnold (panting): Helga. . .kidnap. . .Las Vegas. . .wedding. . .

Gerald: What?

Arnold: Helga kidnapped me and got us hitched in Las Vegas!

Gerald: WHAT?!!!

Arnold: Just send me some money! I have to get home!

-

-

Arnold (running into the Sunset Arms): Grandpa! You have to help me! This crazy—

Phil: I can't believe you, Arnold. I raised you better than that. Begging this poor girl to elope with you and then abandoning her.

Arnold: What? That's not what happened at all. I—

Phil: I'm afraid you leave me with no choice, Short Man. You have to take responsibility for your actions. You're evicted, Arnold.

Arnold: WHAT?!

-

-

Arnold: According to Nevada state law, even without a license Helga's still my lawfully wedded wife for ninety days!

Stinky: Well fellers, there's only one thing you can do at a time like this. You got 'ta make the best of yer sitcheachn.

Gerald: I feel for you man. If there's anything you need…

Arnold: I think I just want to be alone.

Sid: Sure thing. . .Mr. Pataki!

-

-

Arnold: Look, Gerald, you've got to let me stay with you!

Gerald: I wish I could, man, but where would you sleep? The closet? Phoebe practically lives here already as it is. I just don't have the room. You're just gonna have to—

Arnold: Please don't say it.

Gerald: Arnold, you're gonna have to live with Helga.

silence

Gerald: Arnold?

Arnold: I told you not to say it. . .

-

-

Helga: I don't know what you're so worried about. I got this place for us two weeks ago. It's not like I didn't plan this thing out, you know.

Arnold: Helga, I don't even know if I'm talking to you right now. . .

Helga: I knew you'd be this way. You can relax, Football Head. It's got two bedrooms.

Arnold: . . .Let's just see how it goes.

-

-

Gerald: So you've been married for almost a month and you've only slept in the same bed twice?!

Arnold: Yup.

Gerald: And you've never?

Arnold: Nope.

Gerald: Man, you have the weirdest sex life.

Arnold: You say that as though you want her and I to--"

Gerald: Aw man! Now I'm never gonna get that image out of my head!

-

-

Arnold: Why did you marry me?

Helga: I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time. You said you were leaving the neighborhood. I guess I just couldn't let that happen.

Arnold: You're not going to tell me the real reason no matter how many times I ask, are you?

Helga: I have my own way of doing things. Want help with the dishes?

-

-

Gerald: So what's it like when you sleep next to her?

Arnold: It's weird. Helga's kind of. . .

Gerald: Kind of what?

Arnold. . .Bony.

-

-

Arnold: What are you doing?

Helga: I'm registering for my courses this fall. Look, I did this because it was funny to me. It was just a practical joke, Arnold. The only reason I've kept it going this long is because I've actually found it to be rather convenient. And it sure as hell beats living with Bob and Miriam.

Arnold: I don't think I'll ever understand you.

Helga: Heh, don't feel bad. Most people can't be bothered to even try.

-

-

Ernie: Look at it this way, Gramps. You raised a great kid, there. And you'll still see him all the time. He only lives a few blocks away.

Oskar: Besides, you'll always have me Grandpa! (laughs)

Phil buries his face in his hands and cries

Mr. Hyunh: Oskar! We are supposed to be comforting Grandpa! Not torture him!

-

-

Helga: You want to know why? Because I didn't want to be a Pataki anymore! I thought that maybe if I associated myself with the best person I know, that maybe I could change. Maybe I could get a fresh start!

-

-

Gerald: I don't get it! You said you couldn't stand her! She doesn't cook, she's always yelling at you, she spends your money, you've never made love to her once, and last week you call me all in a fit because she donated your CD collection to Goodwill! Why the hell would you not sign that annulment?!

Arnold: I know it sounds crazy, but. . .I think that I'm actually falling in love with her. . .

Gerald: You're a sick boy, Arnold, a sick, sick boy.

-

-

_**Sometimes you have to lose everything to find the only thing that matters**_

Helga: What the hell is wrong with you?! You've been begging me to sign that thing for months, and then when I do, you tear it up?

Arnold: I realized everything we would lose. I think I'm falling in love with you, Helga.

Helga (shaking with intensity, then whispers): Get out . . .

Arnold: What?!

Helga: I said get the hell out of my apartment!

-

-

_All I can say is that my life is pretty plain  
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain_

-

-

Arnold: I don't understand her at all. All I did was see something in her one night that I've never seen in anyone else. And all of a sudden, nothing she has ever done to me in my entire life mattered anymore.

-

-

Phoebe: Isn't this what you've been waiting for your entire life?

Helga: Not like this. I won't be made a fool!

Phoebe: Nobody is trying to make a fool of you, Helga.

Helga: Why shouldn't they? God gave them plenty to work with!

-

-

_And all I can do is just pour some tea for two  
and speak my point of view  
But it's not sane, _

_It's not sane_

-

-

Gerald: So what do you remember?

Arnold: I woke up one morning and Helga was in the kitchen, making breakfast in her underwear.

Gerald: And?

Arnold: She kept throwing things at me until I went back in my room.

-

-

_I just want some one to say to me  
I'll always be there when you wake_

-

-

Arnold: Why do you always do this to yourself?! What the heck are you punishing yourself for? What have you possibly done that you need to deprive yourself of happiness at every turn? What is it, Helga? When are you going to stop doing this to yourself and just be here with me?

Helga: Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to. . .

-

-

_Ya know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today  
So stay with me and I'll have it made_

-

-

Helga: What do you want from me? I told you the truth, even when I knew it was a mistake!

Arnold: I want you to stop existing and start living. I want you to stay here.

Helga: You have no idea what you're asking

**-**

**-**

**This summer. . .**

-

-

Phoebe: What do you need us to do?

Arnold: I need you to help me get my wife back.

Gerald: Oh, is that all?

Phoebe: Oh come on Gerald, this will be romantic!

Gerald: You're both insane, but it's not like I could ever say no to either of you.

-

-

**_Swead Entertainment_** **proudly presents**

-

-

Helga: I've been patient for fifteen years. I can wait a little longer, why can't you?

Arnold: Have I ever told you the story of my parents?

-

-

Phil: Shoot, I remember being that young. It was a right good feeling. Those days before the war were what life was all about.

Arnold: And after you married Grandma?

Phil: One argument after another. But you know what, Short Man? I was never happier.

-

-

**Rhonda Wellington Lloyd**

-

-

Rhonda: So what do you think? Are you going to stand there gawking, or will you be a dear and zip me up?

Gerald: You know me, I take my time. . .

-

-

**Sid Gifaldi**

-

-

Sid: So what do you say, gorgeous? How about you and I go out to the beach this Saturday?

Summer: I don't know. . .how are you at catching clams?

-

-

**Phoebe Heyerdahl**

-

-

Phoebe: You want my advice? Stop thinking and start living. I can't say I approve of the method you employed, but at the same time, I don't recall seeing you happier than when you first came back from Vegas. But now you're being so erratic that Gerald is distancing himself from me. And I'm not going to put my entire life on hold because of something you did!

-

-

**Gerald Johanssen**

-

-

Gerald: You're my best bud, and I've got to look out for you. And I'm telling you man, listening to your heart on this one is gonna leave you hurting.

Arnold: It's a chance I'm willing to take Gerald. Can't you accept that?!

Gerald: No, Arnold, I can't. Not this time.

-

-

**Helga Pataki**

-

-

Helga: Don't stand there and pretend to know who I am! Do you think that these stupid rings make you entitled to share in every facet of my life? Some things are better swept under the rug, Arnoldo! What is a heart, anyway, besides something to be used against you. . .

-

-

**And Arnold**

-

-

Arnold: Whatever happened to our childhood? We used to run this neighborhood up and down, always some new adventure or dilemma waiting for us. I had the best childhood I could have hoped for here. So forgive me if I can't understand why you don't want to help me create the best adulthood for both of us.

-

-

**Are leaning the dangers of**

-

-

Helga: I'm sorry

-

-

Gerald: This marriage stuff is nothing but trouble. . .

-

-

Phoebe: I'm always going to be a bridesmaid. . .

Helga: You weren't even in my wedding, Pheebs.

Phoebe: Don't remind me.

-

-

Rhonda: The truth is, I envy you Arnold. Because you have the convenience of being able to marry for love. Me? I can date whoever I like, but the pool for potential husbands is rather limited.

Arnold: I'm sorry about that, Rhonda.

Rhonda: I love being rich, Arnold. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Even being able to marry for love. But that old saying is true, money can't buy happiness.

-

-

Arnold: We were married! How can that not mean something to you?! It's not just something you do to amuse yourself on a rainy Sunday afternoon! You went to all that trouble, and now that you got what you wanted, you intend to just walk away? What is it with you? What has it been with you since the day we met? What do you want, Helga? Do you want to be loved? Or do you just want to live in a plastic bubble for the rest of your life?

Helga: I want to be left alone. . .

-

-

_All I can say is that my life is pretty plain_

_Ya don't like my point of view_

_Ya think that I'm insane_

-

-

_**Instant Gratification**_

-

-

Gerald: You have got to learn to let go. Why do you put up with her?

Arnold: You'd be surprised what you would do for someone you're in love with.

Gerald: Arnold. . .buddy. . .the girl is a certifiably psychotic bitch!

Arnold: Dammit Gerald! That's my wife you're talking about!

-

-

_**Opens June 2005**_

Helga: And why not, weddings are better in June!

Phoebe: Oh dear. . .

-

-

Gerald: I still can't get it out of my head. I'm gonna have to gouge out my mind's eye or somethin'!


	24. Instant Gratification Trailer B

**The waiting has begun.**

_What were you like as a child?_

"Loud. Obnoxious. Dominating. In other words, not much different than I am now. I remember how important it was for me to be noticed. I liked it when people pay attention to me. Still do. Even if they don't like me very much. I'm not looking to have a close, personal relationship with the world. I just want to leave my mark on it. I want the people I grew up with to tell their grandchildren all about Helga Pataki. Even if they hate my guts. In that way, it's like achieving a kind of immortality. I feel that the greatest honor that can be given a person is to still be talked about long after your expiration."

_Do you love your mother?_

"That's a much more complex question than you could ever imagine. For all intents and purposes, she is my mom. I love Miriam. There's a lot of things that I don't like about her. There are too many opportunities that we didn't have. Too many times she's let me down. I feel like. . .there's this giant chasm between us. Truth be told, there's a giant abyss between myself and everyone else in the family. We're not capable of understanding each other. Maybe we're just meant to live separate lives. I don't hate any of them. And I do love them all. Even Olga. But just because you love someone doesn't mean you can live with them."

_Who are the people that you consider to be your friends?_

"I don't really do the whole friendship thing. I make it a habit not to trust anybody. Makes it much harder to get hurt. Phoebe is a special case. She is the only person in this world who seems to understand me. I'd do anything for Pheebs. Okay, almost anything. There are a few needs of my own that I would put before her. But very few. Sometimes I feel as though she's my own little project. I never want anything to happen to her. She has so much talent and potential. I made a promise to myself that no matter what happens to me, I won't drag her down. And I intend to keep that promise. Which hasn't been easy over the years, let me tell you."

_Do you believe in God?_

"I definitely believe in some sort of higher authority. God, Fate, Time. . .whatever you want to think of it as. I'm not really the religious type. Maybe I should be. God only knows I need something to take comfort in. The reason I believe in something is that, well, I just don't believe that there's any way my life could be so completely screwed up by accident. So I figure either I must've done something to really piss God off in another life, or I'm the result of some cosmic kind of practical joke, or maybe, just maybe, the universe has some kind of plan for me and that it's unfolding as it should. I like to think that might be the case. But I dare not trust to hope. One false move, and hope can ruin you. Hope is death. Hope is fear. And hope is also the one thing that has sustained me through every day of my stupid little life."

_What do you plan on doing with your life?_

"Now you're starting to sound like one of those tedious college applications. I don't even know where I see myself five years from now. The awful truth is that I have no long term plans. Even my short term ones are sketchy. Maybe I'm just hoping that getting a degree will change things, inspire me to take on something. But I never even expected to get this far in life. I thought I'd be dead by now. Guess I'm made of stronger stuff than I give myself credit for. What I really want is to be a bride. His bride. I know, I know, you're not going to buy that one, but it's completely true, I swear it! And it's going to happen for me soon. Don't ask me how, I just know. Because everything that is meant to happen, does. One way or another."

_Have you ever thought about having children?_

"Several times. I can't help but wonder what that would be like. I guess what usually scares me about that thought is how I might screw the kid up somehow. I mean, I'm totally a product of my own rotten upbringing. I don't even have that much of a conscience. I want to make sure I do the right thing. Have them with the right person. Treat them the way they deserve to be treated. No child of mine will ever feel like they have to fight for my attention. That's just how I am. I suffered so much, having to practically scream just for my parents to remember that I exist. I could never do that to my own flesh and blood. It's funny. I've only held a baby maybe once in my life, but I can already tell that I have a strong maternal instinct. Maybe it's because I'm something of a fighter. But if I do end up with a little boy or girl someday, I definitely want them to have a better life than I've had. But I'll bet everyone says that. It's the name that concerns me. I don't want to wish the last name of Pataki on anyone else. I'm not one of those liberated women who won't take her husband's name, or go in for the whole hyphen ordeal. Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly old-fashioned either. Um, I'm kind of getting off the subject here, aren't I?"

_Do you think that people can change?_

"I don't know. Maybe. But I don't put a lot of faith in it. I mean, honestly, I've been trying to change for all my life. I haven't had much luck with it. I just. . .look, I know that I'm self-destructive, and kind of bitter, and a pain in the ass to most people. I'm not going to deny it. I'm dead on the surface, but I'm screaming underneath. There's a lot more of me that no one else has ever seen. And I'm not alone. Everyone has a side of themselves that they never share with anyone else. Well, maybe one or two really special people in life. When I find the right person, I'll show my more sensitive side to them, sure. But in the meantime, I'll keep denying that I even have one. In the greater scheme of things, we are who we are. So can we really change? Yes. But that begs a completely different question, don't you think? If we change who we are, then are we really even in the same person anymore? Following that line of thinking, we can't change. See what happens when you ask a cynical city girl about philosophy?"

_What's the deal with your sister?_

Olga. Oh yes, I know Olga. She's a special case. See, on the one hand, I'm in total awe of her. Show me any list of overachievers, and I'll show you Olga Pataki's name right at the top. And of course, I hate her for it. She's taken an awful lot from me. I don't think that she meant to. But that doesn't make it all better. Over the years, my hostility towards Olga has diminished somewhat. Mostly because somewhere alone the line, I figured out that it was my parents who were to blame for the way I was treated when I was little, not Olga. I was always the unnecessary one. Now when I think of Olga, the most resentment I feel is how she set the bar so high that anything I did couldn't help but be a disappointment. But it's Bob who I really can't stand. Make no mistake, I am my father's daughter. I take after him in both looks and action. I keep thinking I'll learn not to do that. I've resolved to do just that several times. But here I am. Anyway, I don't really hate Olga anymore. It's just that we don't have anything in common beyond being siblings, and even though I realize how hard she tries to get along with me, I just don't think that we're meant to be close."

_What kind of man do you like?_

"There's really only one man I can ever picture myself being with. I'm not the kind of person most guys would want. Which is okay, because I'm not much on dating at all. I do some socializing, but it isn't much. But there is one person who's holding onto my heart. Trouble is, I still haven't managed to tell him. It isn't easy to tell someone how perfect they are. How they open the shades and bring light back into your soul. It's corny, but I do get an actual glow when I watch him from afar. I can't help but think about him. I've done it every few minutes of every day for so long I can't remember anything else. So many times, I've thought about doing something. Approaching him somehow, but I always chicken out. I've never really been good at getting what I want. I compensate by pushing other people around, but I never really got a handle on this one. People say I'm crazy, and they may be right. But do you know all I really want in life? I just want him to look at me and see past what everyone else does. I want him to see me as I want to be. I want him to look into this face and see how much love I have to give. I want him to tell me that I'm beautiful to him, no matter what anyone else thinks. A man who will love me for who I am. A man who will value me simply for being me. That's the kind of man I like. And there's no doubt in my mind that he's the one. It's time that I did something about that. High time indeed."

**On June 13, the waiting will be over.**

_Instant Gratification_

**Anticipation is the name of the game.**

**June 13, 2005. Only at FFN. **


	25. Excerpt From Instant Gratification

Welcome one and all! I'm sure this is a bit different than you expected. It's different than what I expected, too. This final preview for the upcoming _Instant Gratification _story was supposed to be in the same format as the original trailer. And that is what I started to do. And then I ran into several road blocks with it, and I realized that I just couldn't create another trailer as exciting as the original. So, I've decided to take a different tactic. I did up a scene I had in my head. Perhaps this is a better way to go. Popular novel writers will often release segments of their work, an excerpt or two to help promote whatever project they are working on. So, to maximize the pun, I'm taking a page out of their books and doing the same. This should prove exciting. I'm hoping that by finally giving out something solid, I can get some good publicity going. I want this to be a story you tell your friends about. I'm hoping I can do the plot justice and let this one be a story talked about for some time to come. But only time will tell. As this is the first concrete piece of work for _Instant Gratification_ that I'm releasing to the public, your feedback is much appreciated. Enjoy!

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_"I'm here today to talk to you about Faith. Because when I look around in this world, it's dying, and I can't imagine a world without Faith. Because Faith is one of our most fundamental traits as human beings. It is by Faith that people believe in or deny a higher power. It is by Faith that our governments keep hold of their power. By Faith, we believe in our parents and spouses and children and friends. By Faith, do we take most people at their word, until given reason not to do so. And it is by Faith that you return each week to listen to me share something with you. _

_And yet, we are in danger of losing that Faith. It should be precious to you. Without it, we run the risk of living in a world of constant suspicion and guarded encounters. Always keeping our friends close and our enemies closer, watching out of the corners of our eyes for that first sign of betrayal. And I urge each of you to fight those impulses. Do not go gently into that good night! Wake up, all you good people of the world, and remind your fellow man how much you love him in spite of everything. Don't depend on someone else to do it for you. Take the time now! Call that friend you haven't seen in a few years! Apologize to your boss for adding that five minutes to your break! Resist the urge to honk your horn at that person who cuts you off on the freeway! Give back that extra dollar the cashier gave you in change! Put a dollar into the Salvation Army cup, not a quarter! Spend more time with your family! Admit that lie to your parents! Let your kids stay up late! _

_I don't know what awaits us when we die, but we only get one chance at this life. We don't have to go through it all as strangers. We don't have to go it alone. Let the people around you into your heart, and see if you aren't blessed."_

Ginger Foutley

Excerpt from the "Hello, Strangers!" weekly syndicated newspaper column

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Arnold yawned as he slid into the queen-sized bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. His eyes closed, his head snuggling into the pillow. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as he felt Helga's hand upon his shoulder, she pulled herself to him, wrapping her legs around his smaller form and lightly threading his hair through her fingers.

"I thought you weren't going to come to bed tonight." She whispered in his ear

"I wasn't sure for awhile myself." Arnold responded. "I've been under a lot of stress."

"That's why you should come home more often."

"Why, so we can fight more?"

"We're different personality types. So of course we're going to drive each other crazy. But I'm the one who got you into this whole marriage thing. And although you make me want to strangle you, I will say that you haven't done anything that would make me want to deprive you of marital privileges. . .yet.

"As I recall, Helga, we haven't engaged in any 'marital privileges.' I told you how I feel about that."

"I'm not talking about sex, Football Head."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump down your throat."

"Eh, I'm in a forgiving mood. Now, as a little reminder, I am your wife, and part of that entails my taking care of you. I think it was somewhere in that whole 'love and support' part of the vows. To be honest, I don't remember it that clearly, I was kind of in a hurry and I wasn't really paying much attention."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Arnold replied sarcastically.

Helga shot him a look that indicated she wasn't amused, but it faded quickly lest she just start off another argument. "But in spite of all that, I'm not about to shirk my duties." She began to knead the flesh of his back, trying to ease some tension.

"Um, really, it's okay. You don't have to do anything." Arnold felt rather uncomfortable.

"I know I don't _have_ to." Helga failed to keep the frustration out of her voice, pushing a little harder than necessary. "Maybe I want to, okay?"

"Why do you want to?"

"Do I have to have a reason?"

"I'd be a lot more comfortable if you have one, yes."

"I just want to do it, all right? Am I not allowed to do something nice for you for once in your life?"

"Look, it's not that I'm not touched that--"

"Oh criminey, will you just shut up! Fine, I'll give you my reason! Maybe I'm just a little tired of watching you do stuff for me day in and day out. And then you had to go and see Bob, God I don't know what you were thinking with that one, and you actually managed to get through to him! It was beautiful! After years of futilely trying to gain his approval, he finally explained why he made my childhood so difficult. That maybe I was wrong. That maybe there's hope. That maybe, just maybe, there isn't something wrong with me. Maybe I'm not unlovable." She whispered the last part, her hands dropping from his shoulders.

Arnold turned to look at Helga, her face a mixture of emotion, locked somewhere between sorrow and relief. "You shouldn't ever think that, Helga. No one is unlovable. No one."

"Husbands are supposed to say things like that." She said quietly, without a hint of sarcasm.

"You are not unlovable." Arnold reiterated. "When you're not too busy pretending that you're really mean and cruel, I think we both know you've got a lot of love to give."

Helga blinked twice, processing that statement several times to be certain that she had heard it correctly. Inside, she was glowing. He'd done it again, ignited her very soul, filling her with passion and desire. Without even thinking, she pushed him firmly, knocking him off balance and causing him to fall backwards against the mattress. Helga pounced in an instant, pinning him with her own body, her hands gripping his arms to keep him from struggling. "All right, Bucko, I'll have you know that, in the fifteen years I've known and obsessed over you, I have never wanted you more than I do this very second. And you'd better say something in a hurry, because I don't think I can control myself much longer!"

"This is controlling yourself!"

"If I weren't in control, you would never be able to get of this marriage for non-consummation."

Arnold gulped audibly. "Um, Helga, I really appreciate the offer, but I think this is too much too fast. I mean, we hardly know each other, and. . ."

"We'll make it work! That's what you do, Arnold, make things work! Trust me, you just got through telling me that I have a lot of love to give. And there's no way we could possibly have a problem that either talking or sex couldn't fix. Now come on!"

"How about if we agree to spend a couple of nights in the same bedroom and we'll take it slowly from there?"

Helga practically leapt off the bed in glee. "Yes! Okay then! My room?"

"Sure." Arnold smiled.

"Can we sleep in the nude?"

"Er, why don't we try it with bedclothes first. . ."

"You're no fun." Helga pouted. Arnold rolled his eyes. "Fine. Foreplay?"

"We can cuddle, Helga. Baby steps, all right?"

"Right, right." She sighed. "Okay then, why don't you pack a few things you want to move into my room, and I'll, um, get ready."

"Great, I'll be there in half an hour. Um, you'll have to let me up, though."

"Oh, right!" With great effort, Helga released her prey, allowing Arnold to slide out from under her.

"Okay, then. I'll pack up my stuff, while you go ahead and get ready."

"Yeah, I'll just, um, go back to my room and get ready. Okay, so I'm just going to go now."

"Right." Arnold rolled his eyes as Helga backed out of his room one step at a time. Almost tripping down the staircase before she stopped herself and ran off down the hall. "I don't think I'll ever understand women."

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"Criminey, what the hell am I thinking!" Helga yelled at herself as she ran into her bedroom, rapidly throwing the various books and items off of her bed in a desperate attempt to make it look presentable. She ended up having to completely strip the sheets and redo them, aligning the pillows in a cozy and inviting manner. She threw her bottles of constipation medicine into the nightstand and began picking up every stitch of clothing on her floor, throwing them into an already full hamper without even looking. Breathing heavily, she ran into her small bathroom, getting a look at herself in the mirror and practically screaming. There was no way she could possibly sleep next to the love of her life looking like this. Her hair was a train wreck! Her skin was clammy with sweat. And her legs, good heavens, she didn't think she could think back to the last time she had shaved them. Screaming at her reflection, she turned both the hot and cold water faucets on full blast, filling the tub in only two minutes. Without even bothering to test the temperature, Helga quickly tore off every last article of clothing she was wearing and dove into her bathtub as though she were in the Olympics. She grabbed a bar of soap and vigorously scrubbed it all over her body, grabbing a brush to do her back and using her free hand to attend to other parts. Without missing a beat, Helga reached behind her for the different bottles of shampoo she kept. She went with the second one she grabbed, it had a pleasant but not overpowering scent that she felt certain someone of Arnold's taste would appreciate. She lathered the miracle substance into her hair, praying it would do something to make it presentable, while turning her attention to her least favorite of the chores before her. She sighed loudly, knowing that she did not possess nearly enough time to do the job properly, she knew she was bound to cut herself. Trying not too think to hard about what she was doing, she lifted her left leg, doused it in shaving foam, and took the razor to her skin, cursing herself for not having planned for this eventuality better. She didn't go as quickly as she had planned, deciding that legs full of ugly cuts wouldn't be any less attractive than legs that lacked the naturally smooth feeling that could only be achieved by putting one over on nature.

Finally, the ordeal was over, and Helga jumped out of the tub, wrapping her hair up in a towel while rolling her body up in a bath sheet. She tied the latter off around her waist and took a look in the mirror. The same, plain and unattractive face greeted her, but there wasn't much she could do about that. She considered plucking her long, distinctive eyebrow in its center two generate the appearance of two, but decided against it. That would be too obvious, since Arnold had just seen her less than an hour ago. Quickly, she opened the cabinet under the sink and removed a bottle of mouthwash. Not wasting time with a cup, she simply took a healthy swig straight from the bottle and proceeded to gargle loudly. Nearly a minute later, she gratefully spat the foul substance down the drain, gasping for air but also knowing she would no longer have to worry about her breath. Inhaling deeply and giving herself one last once over, Helga growled as she noticed that her modest breasts were hanging awkwardly, and her attempts to correct the problem weren't making the situation better. As if planned by the heavens above, it was at that moment that she heard a knock on her bedroom door-Arnold! "I'll deal with you later." She scowled at her chest, running to the door to appear punctual and ready.

Helga opened the door to be greeted by a very wide-eyed Arnold holding a small suitcase and wearing pajamas. "Um, Helga, I thought we agreed to wear our pajamas to bed." Arnold said, feeling embarrassed.

"Huh? Oh, right! I'm sorry, you just caught me coming out of the shower. I usually take one before I go to bed. It's okay, I've got a nightgown in here, I'll change into it in a second. Um, why don't you come in and make yourself at home? I'll just finish up in my bathroom."

"Okay, that will work." Arnold stepped inside the doorway past Helga, who shut the door behind him. He crossed over to the bed and sat down on the left side opening his suitcase and placing several items on the nightstand. Helga silently thanked the Fates that he hadn't chosen the right side, the last thing she wanted was for him to see her embarrassing medications.

"So, um, I'll just be back out in a minute." Helga grinned as she stepped into the bathroom. Once inside, she shut the door, leaving it ajar so she could hear what he was doing in the bedroom. She furiously rubbed at the towel in her hair to make sure it was free of excess water, she hoped he wouldn't mind that it would remain damp for most of the night. She frowned at the mirror again, sighed, then dropped the towel, grabbing a white, silk nightgown that hung on the back of the door. She stepped into it, satisfied both with the feel and that it would meet Arnold's expectations. This would hook him for sure! A wonderfully sexy fabric that kept her well-covered. Arnold couldn't accuse her of breaking the arrangement, but her choice in fabric ensured he would want to stay as close as possible. "Helga old girl, you're a genius!"

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I step out of my bathroom wearing what I can't help but think of as an evening ensemble, even if it doesn't amount to anything more than pajamas. I need everything to be perfect for him. I was desperate. Too many long years of anticipation demanding to see a payoff. And I was close, I can feel it in the air, like little discharges of electricity. Soon, my love. Soon. But not tonight. Not all the way. But soon. I flash a shy smile, appreciating the way he looks me up and down in an approving manner, satisfied I'm not up to something. I can follow the rules. I don't want to take any shortcuts that will upset him and put the whole business in danger. Just the idea of sleeping next to him, in the same bed! That very notion is nearly orgasmic on its own, who needs sex! Um, don't answer that.

"That looks nice, Helga. I didn't really know that you owned anything like that. Usually I just see you wearing old T-shirts and tattered pink shorts when you're in for the night." Arnold grins at me. You've gotta love the element of surprise.

"Oh, this old thing?" I smile at him. "I guess I just never had occasion to show it off."

"I like it."

"I'm glad." I casually saunter over to the bed, pulling the covers down on my side and sliding my form into them. "Well, come on in then. I promise I won't bite." Arnold gives me a look that clearly indicates his reservations about the sincerity of that comment. "I mean it. I'll completely behave. Campfire lass' honor!"

"You were never a Campfire Lass, Helga." Arnold rolls his eyes. I look at him with a slightly hurt expression. A little manipulating, I suppose, but it has the desired effect.

"All right." Arnold nods, then pulls down his own covers and gets inside. It's actually a pretty comfy fit. This is a full size bed, luxurious for just myself, but even with the two of us together, it's quite cozy. "Hey, you didn't tell me that you sleep in a nicer bed than mine."

"You never asked." I reach under my nightstand for a recent gift presented to me in celebration of the nuptials. "Here we are, complements of Big Bob himself."

"Champagne?" Arnold examines the bottle. "Aren't we supposed to be 21?"

"Yeah, well, I won't tell if you don't." I shrug at him. "Besides, you do realize that this will be the first time the two of us will be sleeping in the same bed since the night we were married?"

"I guess you're right. Funny, I haven't really thought about it. I mean, when this first started, I was just. . .looking for the fastest way out. But now, it's like I'm used to it. It's not what I would've chosen, but it really hasn't been all bad. I think I've gotten used to it."

"Ah, so I'm not all bad, am I?" The smile I flash him is my best. I want to him to see me as a woman, as his wife. I want him to see that there's so much more to me than the Helga he thinks he knows. And that I can be more. Please, God, just give me this chance to prove myself!

"No, I suppose you're not. You know, Helga, when we were kids, I wish we could've been more like this."

I raise my eyebrow rather high at that remark. "Oh so? I didn't realize that you had a thing for me back then. Or ever, really. As I recall, it was the perfect girl with braids and freckles you were trying to win over."

"I didn't mean the whole marriage thing, Helga. What I meant was. . .I just wanted to be able to have a regular conversation with you, like any of the other kids. But you always gave me such a hard time. And then after middle school, it was like you kind of disappeared from my life." Arnold finished his thought quietly, almost as though he were traveling back to those times.

I blink my eyes at him, also aware of our past. Or lack of it. "Well, it seemed to me that we just got too old for teasing, Arnold. And, well, we were on different social paths. I let you go because I was afraid to draw any more attention to it. You know how you puberty is. If I had continued to pay that kind of attention to you, people would have noticed. Some people already had. So, I withdrew. I found other ways to express myself. I never heard many complaints about how the school paper was run."

"It was a good paper." Arnold agreed. "But you were only the editor-in-chief for senior year."

"True, but I was the real power on the paper, even if I didn't have the title until recently. I was their best writer with a bullet and everyone knew it. But that wasn't what it was about to me. It just kept me busy. I did some stuff on the side, too. I never could shrug off fourth grade completely. Simmons is always after me for poetry contests and the likes. He actually showed up at my house once! I guess he means well. I have to admit, I did enjoy the occasional cash prizes."

"See, I never knew any of this stuff about you. Why did you always have to hide from everyone?"

"I still do." I have to admit that. "I don't know, Arnold, I just. . .I'm afraid, you know? I have a fear of rejection. A really big fear of rejection. Do you have any idea what this is like for me? The only reason I'm finally able to talk to you is, well, it's not as though I can hide it anymore, right?"

"You know, Helga, if you would just act like this, like your real self, you'd probably have less rejection to worry about, instead of just pushing everyone else away first. I do like you, but you make it so hard to communicate most of the time!"

"I guess this makes a start, then. But how am I ever going to get you to love me, hmm?"

"I don't think it's anything you can force. I think you should just be yourself, and maybe it will happen. You do realize that there's a possibility we could've been together for real by now if you hadn't worked so hard at keeping me at bay all these years."

I hate it when he's right. Especially about me. I mean, I really, _really _hate it! "Ironic, isn't it?" I exhale. "But it isn't very much of a likelihood. As I recall, you and Rhonda were rather close." I could see him cringe at that. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What am I thinking! Everything was going great until I had to drag his ex-girlfriend into this!

"Yeah, we were. Rhonda and I, things were. . .special, between us. This kind of thing was common for us. We were really intimate."

Something inside me exploded with pain. I should've expected this. They had gone out for close to two years. She obviously would've gotten to him first. But somehow, I know that Rhonda Lloyd has managed to forever steal a piece of me that I can never have back. "So, you slept with Rhonda?"

"Yeah, lots of times. I mean, I slept with her. I didn't _sleep _with her. We talked about it a few times, and it was really hard to hold back, but. . .I was worried that it might be something we would regret. I never really knew where Rhonda and I were going, the whole time I was with her. And then it was like we woke up one morning and realized we weren't going anywhere. It's not that we didn't like each other, I still think she's great! But we were just spinning our wheels. If we stayed together, we probably would've ended up getting married and drifted off into a kind of loveless relationship where we just would've. . .accepted each other. But we both wanted more than that."

I can't keep the grin off my face as I dive at my love, burying him in a kiss I've waited years to show. I'm not certain, but I think he might be resisting. I don't care. I want him to know how much this means to me. I try to respect his own misgivings, keeping it soft and heartfelt. Reluctantly, I draw back, breaking the kiss in favor of an awkward embrace. I know I'm being silly, clutching to me like he's my child or something. But to know that there's even a chance that I might still be his first, or dare I even think it, his _only_! Okay, now I'm the one who's about to pass out!

"What was that for?" Arnold asks me with confusion.

I shoot him an impish grin, feeling lucky. "Just a little reminder that blondes have more fun than brunettes."

Maybe it's the genuine feelings coming out of me that he can sense, or maybe it's just my silk pajamas that he's burrowing into, but Arnold settles into the hug, and I guide us both down into the bed. I can't think of a better way to fall asleep. "Good night, sweet prince." I whisper into his ear before shutting my eyes. There's a flutter of motion on his side, and then I feel one of his arms wrap around my waist tenderly. Not wanting to lose the opportunity, I seek out his hand and twine it with my own as I burrow my head into the pillow for the night. I shut my eyes, feeling his warmth flowing through me and knowing that, for once, I'll finally have pleasant dreams that open onto a perfect reality.

My thoughts are interrupted a moment later. "Helga?"

"Yeah?" I ask sleepily.

"Um, what kind of perfume are you wearing. It smells. . .really nice."

Be still my heart! "I'm not wearing any perfume, Arnold." It's impossible to keep the grin out of my voice,

"Oh." He says quietly, suddenly holding on a little tighter. I can feel the rhythm of his breathing slow, and I match it, allowing us both to begin a good night's sleep. Tomorrow will be another day. But for now, I revel in the night.

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_Swead__ Entertainment Proudly Presents:_

_A Lord Malachite Fanfic_

**Arnold**** Short Helga Pataki Rhonda Lloyd**

_Instant Gratification_

**The story of a young man and the girl of his screams.**

Opens June 


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